


Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse

by shmulia



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Magic AU, Night Circus AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, competitors to lovers, magicians au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5399258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmulia/pseuds/shmulia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The circus arrives at midnight; a place for mystery and magic, it hosts an unwilling contest between two magicians who are players in a game they can’t control...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The circus arrives at midnight.

It appears silently, tents of black and white stark against the glittering skyline of Paris. Nobody sees it go up - they never do. But when the sun rises, the soft warmth of Autumn slipping over the streets, no-one is surprised by the monochrome leaflets which have dotted the streetlights, telling of the arrival of Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse; after all, part of the magic of the circus is that you don't expect it. 

Children pull at their parents' sleeves in anticipation as dusk draws closer, signalling the opening of the circus' first night. The queue to enter is horrendous, and numerous adults mutter under their breath that the entirety of Paris must be in the line.

They aren't wrong.

But when, suddenly, the dark silhouette of each tent is illuminated by the lights of the circus, even the grumpiest parent can't help but be entranced by the spectacle. 

The circus has come to Paris for as long as anyone can remember; it rarely changes, with some tents as familiar to Parisians as their childhood homes. It is these tents to which people immediately flock, to the tried and tested miracles which never grow old. There's Le Dessinateur, who can draw you without seeing your face; Mime, who Parisians have sworn they've seen drive a car made of thin air; and the children's favourite, Le Bulleur, whose bubbles cannot be popped, and can be shaped into anything and everything.

The air shimmers with wonder as the tents are filled with stunned circus-goers, awe clear on every face, whether they're new to Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse or not. When the circus leaves, there will be arguments about how the performers managed these tricks, these illusions; but in this moment, there is nothing but magic and belief.

And yet, this year, there's something different. Whispers amongst those who've been to the circus before spread faster than fire:  _there are new tents._

They're tucked away behind the main centrepieces of Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse. They're smaller, and some of the more sceptical Parisians comment that they can't be anything special if they aren't with the main acts. But others, those who understand the circus, know that the opposite must be true. Yes, the tents are smaller, but they must be important; they're hidden, after all, and what's more significant than that which is kept between a loyal few?

The first is pitch black. The only colour on it are the twin specks of green light in the eyes of the black cat where a sign should be, easy to overlook in the excitement of the circus. Its neighbour, only a few feet away, is a burst of colour in the monochrome of the night. The red canvas sticks out, black bulbs dotted on the scarlet material to match the carved ladybug at the top of the doors, drawing a crowd to both the tent and its neighbour. Curiosity burns in the group as they split into two smaller crowds, one for each tent. 

Each crowd expects the spectacular; instead, they see the miraculous.

The circus arrives at midnight. And it is there that our story begins.


	2. The pieces on the board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The board is in place; it is time for the players to enter the game in Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse....

_Paris, France. 1900._

Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse was closed during the day. Though this created a great sense of disappointment in the air of whichever city it was in, there was an unspoken agreement amongst the population that it just wouldn’t be the same during sunlight; some experiences were made only for the night.

The circus was empty to the casual onlooker. The acts took the day to rest, either practicing their routines and talents in secluded areas of the city or wondering around the town, hidden in plain sight. Out of their costumes, they were invisible; the simplest disguise is, sometimes, the most effective.

Very few people went near the area at which the circus stood at during the day; it felt almost sacrilegious to gaze on it when it wasn’t asking to be seen. So it came as a surprise to many Parisians when, seemingly without a care in the world, a woman stepped through the unlocked gates into the circus’ silent backdrop.

She wore mostly black, an ebony so dark it shone; her jacket and fluted skirt seemed to shimmer as she walked, and those who saw her enter the circus wondered if she might be an illusion, part of the magic brought along with the tents. Her outfit was punctuated by a scarlet sash around her waist, and blood red feathers arching out of her broad-brimmed hat. But it was her hair which drew the eyes of passers-by; the colour of cherries, it was so vivid that it _couldn’t_ be natural, yet it was the only colour anyone could imagine her possessing.

The woman walked through the circus with confidence, weaving through the maze of canvas buildings as if she’d known them her whole life. She was a flash of colour within the sepia of the day; the grey skies sharpened the outlines of the tents and brightened the scarlet which adorned her, emphasising her ever-moving presence in an otherwise still setting.

Her quick steps halted when she turned past the tent housing Monsieur Pigeon and his birds to face a large, white tent with what appeared to be black spots adorning its material. Upon closer inspection, the woman knew that the dots were actually tiny butterflies. The tent needed no sign – she had been there often enough to know she was in the right place. She took a breath, and steeled herself before walking through the spotted door flaps.

Her eyes skimmed the room, taking in the decor – or, more accurately, the lack of it; the tent was empty, a carpeted floor hosting only a large wooden table with three plush chairs encompassing it, a centrepiece of food and two silver plates resting on the mahogany. There was no light but for a single gap in the tent’s roof, a window strategically placed to thrust the table into the brightest area.

The woman moved towards the table, her finger skimming the polished edge as she circled it. Placards had been placed by two of the chairs; she picked one up, the black of her gloves darkened by the yellow tinge of the cream card, and gingerly held the edges in her fingertips. The card she had chosen was embossed with a black moth in the top left corner, and had a single word in an elegant cursive script: Tikki.

A platter of cheese had been laid out, making up the table’s centrepiece, with pieces of bread and grapes placed delicately around the variety on the plate, and a bottle of champagne set in the middle of three crystal glasses. Tikki rolled her eyes as she took her designated seat, smoothing the front of her dress before resting her hands in her lap. She exhaled, allowing her posture to relax momentarily; she was only given a short respite, however, before the flaps of the entrance rustled. Tikki straightened immediately, tense with anticipation.

The newcomer had to bend to enter the tent, removing his top hat so that it wasn’t knocked off. Tikki relaxed as she took in the man’s ebony hair, watching as he straightened up. He was fairly tall, and, like Tikki, was dressed all in black. His lounge suit was the same material as Tikki’s dress, but whilst her clothes gave the crisp appearance of newness, his suit looked worn and lived-in. A midnight scarf was draped around his neck, which he slid off and placed over his arm before acknowledging Tikki’s presence. He looked up at her once he too had surveyed the room, and nodded in recognition.

“Tikki,” he said, smiling at the seated woman, “so good to see you.” His eyes travelled from Tikki towards the food in front of her, and the man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, our host has anticipated our needs perfectly!”

Tikki let out a soft chuckle. “You aren’t exactly hard to predict, Plagg,” she replied, watching as he took the seat next to her and began to pile cubes of cheddar onto the plate in front of him.

“Well, in our lives, some predictability is nice, is it not?” Plagg frowned at the placard by his seat. “He has to control everything, doesn’t he?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Tikki arched an eyebrow, pulling the bottle of champagne towards her.

“Le Papillion has always had a certain way of asserting himself,” Tikki replied, popping the cork of the bottle and pouring the bubbling liquid into one of the glasses. She motioned to Plagg, nodding her head towards the musty green glass of the bottle. Plagg waved his hand dismissively.

“No, thank you. I’m not drinking today.”

Tikki raised her eyebrows, the edges of her red-painted mouth quirking upwards.

“Ever the model citizen, I see,” she remarked, bringing her own glass to her lips and taking a sip. Silence fell between them; a feeling of unease built between the couple. Words were building up in Tikki’s mind, things which she knew should be said, _would_ be said in due course, but couldn’t yet bring herself to articulate.

The silence grew, a spider’s web of fragile sentences hanging between the two chairs. With a breath, it disappeared into the air of an all too familiar conversation.

“So, it’s time again,” Plagg said casually, piling camembert onto his growing mountain of cheese. Tikki nodded solemnly.

“Yes. The periods between each game seem to get shorter and shorter, don’t they?”

Plagg murmured in agreement as he popped a cube of cheese into his mouth. He swallowed, and picked a smaller block between his fingers, moulding it into a ball.

“How do you feel about your contestant?” he asked, rolling the cheese with his thumb.

“She’ll win,” Tikki stated. There was very little room for argument in her tone, but that had never stopped Plagg before.

“You underestimate _my_ contestant,” Plagg smiled, confidence letting cockiness slip into his words. “He’s a natural; nobody has taken to the Miraculous as quickly as he has. I’m sorry, Tikki, but this time, the game is mine.”

Tikki tilted her head, smirking, red waves of hair falling over the shoulder of her jacket.

“Funny,” she said, placing one hand under her cheek, “I was about to tell you the same thing about my girl.” She took another sip of champagne, eyes locked on the man next to her. He raised an eyebrow, placing the rounded cheese into his mouth. Plagg’s eyes narrowed as he chewed, and Tikki could practically see the cogs whirring in his mind. He seemed to make a decision as he finished eating, and moved the champagne towards him.

“He can use Cataclysm,” Plagg said, turning to his glass as he poured himself a drink. He looked at Tikki from the corner of his eye, expecting the usual reaction of acceptance and defeat when he threw the word out, and blinking when she merely nodded, her smile unmoving.

“Yes, I thought he might be able to,” Tikki replied, delicately twirling her glass between her thumb and forefinger.  Plagg frowned, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“I was under the impression that this would concern you a bit mo- oh. _Oh_. She can use Lucky Charm, can’t she?”

Tikki’s only response was a proud smirk. Plagg chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Well then, this certainly will be interesting. We’ve never seen both powers in use simultaneously bef-” Plagg stopped mid-sentence as the door of the tentlifted.

The atmosphere in the tent changed instantly; the conversation froze like raindrops into ice. Tikki and Plagg turned to face the figure entering the tent. His suit was a deep purple, accents of black on his shirt cuffs and bow tie emphasising the rich colour of his clothes.

His face was covered by a mask, crafted into an angular butterfly, and Tikki and Plagg eyed him wearily as he drew the vacant chair back so he could take the final seat at the table. He rested his elbows on the table, pressing his fingertips together in an arch as he smiled at his companions.

“Tikki, Plagg. Excellent to see you, as always. How long has it been, ten years?” he asked.

“You know _exactly_ how long it’s been,” Tikki replied, her words tinged with venom whilst her posture remained demure, her hands folded in her lap as her back remained straight. Plagg rested a hand on her arm, a familiar gesture of both reassurance and restraint. She took a deep breath, and held her tongue from further comment. Le Papillion sighed.

“I thought we may at least be civil enough to make some small talk, Tikki, but it appears that is not the case. I can only hope that your protégée hasn’t inherited your manners. We’ll get right to the point then. Are your competitors ready?”

Tikki nodded as Plagg let out a soft laugh.

“If they aren’t now, they never will be. If a decade of training with us hasn’t prepared them, nothing can.”

Le Papillion nodded, grasping the open bottle from Plagg and letting the pale gold liquid spill into his glass until it was nearly full.

“And they’ve not met?” Le Papillion asked, leaning back into the plush chair, his glass resting luxuriously in between his fingers. Tikki and Plagg shook their heads.

“We’ve been careful,” Plagg replied. “They shouldn’t have crossed paths. And if they had, I’m sure we would know about it.”

Le Papillion took a sip of champagne. “Yet neither of you know the identity of your protégée’s competition. How can you be sure?”

Plagg’s shoulders tensed.

“We’ve been doing this for long enough to know how to keep the competitors separate, _Sir_ ,” he said, anger humming in every syllable. Le Papillion raised his eyebrows.

“My apologies,” he replied, raising the glass towards the other man, his words as trustworthy as a mirage. “But really, Plagg, don’t you think it might be more interesting if they met beforehand?”

“No,” Plagg said, not even pausing for a second before responding.

“That wouldn’t be interesting,” Tikki whispered, eyes narrowing into slits at the suggestion. “That would be _cruel_.” Le Papillion placed his glass back on the table, raising his hands in a gesture of mock-defeat.

“Of course. I know that the two of you wouldn’t want to meet the other protégée. You’d be afraid of caring about more than one of the contestants, and heaven forbid _they_ care about each other.” His mouth slid into a malicious grin. “After all, only one will be left by the end of it. But you must admit, the games are getting very... similar.”

Tikki and Plagg stilled. Plagg’s hands were grasping his knees rigidly under the table, visible only to the woman next to him. She took a breath, straightening her back so that she was looking at Le Papillion head on.

“And what would you suggest?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. She clenched the folds of her skirt, crumpling the soft material in her fist. Her fingertips dug into the fabric, and pressed into the palm of her hand viciously through the crisp materials of her skirt and gloves.

Le Papillion laced his fingers together, creating a rest for his chin. He leant forward, his cruel smile never faltering.

“We change the venue.”

Tikki and Plagg relaxed slightly; both had been expecting something worse.

“Where will it be changed to?” Plagg questioned, grasping a cube of brie and popping it into his mouth.

The older man straightened in his seat, and gestured towards the tent surrounding them. “The circus.”

Plagg choked on his cheese. Tikki slammed her hands on the table, standing up instinctively.

“Absolutely not,” she hissed, leaning towards the bemused man.

“No?” Le Papillion replied, his eyes flicking between his two companions. “You’re right, Tikki, maybe I could change something else. Would you rather I added more contestants? Or changed the style of the game? A short and sweet battle, maybe, to test their prowess? Plagg’s competitor can use Cataclysm, are you sure you want your darling protégée to have to fight that?”

Tikki was shaking, anger coursing through her bloodstream. Plagg had recovered, and once again touched her arm. Their eyes met, and Tikki slowly sat back down in her chair, fists curled tightly.

“The circus could be an... exciting change to the game, it’s true. When would we leave?” Plagg asked, forcing casualness into his tone. Le Papillion laughed.

“We? You misunderstand. Your competitors will be on their own this time, with only their wits to help them. Having them compete in one place is so _stagnant_. With the circus, they will learn the true extent of their abilities, will be able to adapt to new environments. This game will be entertaining, to say the least.”

Tikki was breathing heavily, her gloves creased from the strength of her curled fists. Plagg shot her a look of warning, his usually smiling face taking on a sombre tone.

“I can see you’re both affected by the change of venue. I understand – saying goodbye to your protégées so soon must hurt. But rest assured, whenever the circus is in Paris, they will be allowed to visit you. Until, of course, one of them wins. Then whoever is left may stay with the circus, or leave it for good.” Le Papillion removed his head from the back of his hands, and took a drink from his champagne.

“Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse leaves in three days. You know the rules. Be back here at midnight with your competitors.” He placed his now empty glass back on the table. “The game will begin then. Make sure they are prepared.” He smiled, mockingly, at the couple opposite him who were staring at him with unadulterated rage in their eyes. Tikki stood up, Plagg following her lead, and stormed out of the tent in silence.

Plagg walked behind her, curling his scarf around his neck as he moved, his other hand clamped around his hat.

“For someone who’s so insistent on that damned black and white colour scheme, he rather enjoys his purple,” Plagg remarked as soon as he thought they were out of earshot. Tikki snorted, a sound which he knew meant she was furious.

“Of course. It’s the colour of royalty, and that man couldn’t think more of himself if he tried. Naturally, he _has_ to stand out.” Tikki practically spat the words out, walking speedily to get as much distance between herself and the tent they’d left. Plagg jogged to keep up with her, catching up and touching her shoulder. Tikki paused at the contact, and turned to face the man behind her. Plagg said nothing, merely offering his arm to her. She looped her arm through his, resting her hand on his bicep, and then began to move again. The duo weaved around the tents, not needing to communicate to know which way they were heading.

The weak sunlight spilled through the pale clouds in a mockery of a sunny day. The sepia of the daylight gave the circus the feel of a graveyard, the silence of its two inhabitants angry and mournful.

The brittle silence between the two shattered when Tikki couldn’t contain her words any longer.

“The circus. The _circus_. Without us there to guide them. Damn him, _damn_ him to the darkest depths of hell where he belongs.”

“Tikki-”

“It’s supposed to be the prize, not the venue! They’ll learn, of course, but everything at the circus come with a price...” Tikki trailed off, her voice catching. Plagg patted her hand in an attempt to comfort her.

“Come now, Tikki, where did that confidence from earlier go? You were so sure your competitor would win! You’re wrong, of course, but that’s no reason to lose spirit if she’s as good as you say. She surely stands a chance?”

“You don’t understand, Plagg, my girl... she’s _kind_. If I can’t remind her about the costs of losing, she- she might not-” Tikki broke off, her shoulders drooping; she seemed to deflate, her hand tightening around Plagg’s arm. He exhaled, and turned to look at her.

“My boy is, too. He’s competitive, I won’t lie, but he has a good heart. Whatever else, this game won’t be violent again.” Plagg sighed. “One of us will lose someone, Tikki, I can’t pretend otherwise. But at least, if they’re kind, the game will go on for a while. It won’t be vindictive; it will just be beautiful.”

They had reached the gate of the circus, and stopped walking. Tikki removed her hand from Plagg’s arm.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, for the first performance. Would you like to go first, or shall I?”

Plagg pondered the question for a moment.

“You go first. There are a few alterations I want to make to the costume before I present him to you.”

Tikki nodded. She looked at the cracked pavement beneath her, its pale stone the same colour as the skies above, before meeting her friend’s eyes.

“This time will be different, Plagg. I can feel it.”

Plagg raised an eyebrow, shrugging at Tikki’s statement.

“Well, whatever happens, it can’t be worse than the previous game,” he mused, taking Tikki’s hand and moving it to his lips. Plagg pressed a gentle kiss to the black-gloved hand before releasing it, ready to part from his companion, and Tikki smiled sadly.

“That’s what you said last time.”

                                                                                                                 ***

Marinette sat in the back room of the boutique, a newly finished bowler hat resting on its stand. She spun it carefully, her skilled eye looking for any mistakes; she had never made a bowler hat before, but was pleased with how it had turned out.

It was, after all, for a special customer.

She’d been surprised when he had requested the hat to be grey, but as new colours came into fashion, Marinette had realised that he was just prepared – whilst others would now have to wait weeks for their clothes to be a la mode, Adrien would be at the top of the Parisian fashion chain.

Marinette carefully grasped the brim of the hat, moving it closer to her face so she could examine it more closely. After finding nothing she could criticise, Marinette let herself relax. She had another week to go over it, should she have a burst of creativity, and could figure out exactly what she would say to Adrien when she finally presented it to him.

Marinette looked up at the flaking ceiling paint, letting out a sigh of relief. She was proud of her work, and when the time came, would be able to talk to Adrien without-

The ring of the bell above the boutique door interrupted Marinette’s musings. She rolled her eyes, moving to put the hat back on its stand.

“Adrien! Bonjour!” Marinette heard Alya, who had been manning the front of the shop, cry. “How can I help you today?”

“Hello, Alya. I was wondering if I could place another order for a hat. My master has misplaced one of his, and where else could I come but here to buy a replacement?”

Marinette nearly dropped the bowler in her hands when she heard Adrien’s voice filter through the wood of the door. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was out of sight in the back room. The cream wallpaper peppered with pink roses surrounded her, reminding her that she could still plan what she was going to say. Adrien didn’t know she was here; she might not have to embarrass herself today.

Her hope of remaining a secret dissipated as soon as she heard Adrien’s next words.

“Is this your sketchbook, Alya?”

Marinette groaned softly; she had left her sketchbook open on the shop’s counter, presuming that business would be slow today. And whilst this wouldn’t necessarily betray her, she knew that Alya would never take credit for Marinette’s work. Whilst this was usually a good thing, it meant that Marinette had limited time to prepare what she would say when her friend inevitably dragged her to the front of the shop.

 “Alya, these designs are wonderful!” Marinette heard Adrien exclaim. “You’re so talented!”

Marinette felt heat rise to her cheeks; Adrien liked her designs. Adrien thought _she_ – well, technically Alya – was talented. She clutched the bowler hat to her chest, burying her face into it in order to muffle her squeal of delight. Her head shot back up as she heard Alya reply.

“Oh, no, these aren’t mine. They’re Marinette’s. Aren’t they just _stunning_? She’s incredible, you should see the hat you requested - actually, she’s just in the back room, finishing it. I’ll run and get her, I’m sure she would _love_ to hear what you think!”

“I thought the hat wasn’t due to be finished for another week,” Adrien said, surprise colouring his voice.

“She’s talented _and_ quick. But you can tell her that yourself, give me one moment.” Alya’s voice was getting closer to the back of the boutique, causing Marinette’s eyes to widen in panic. She looked desperately for somewhere, anywhere, she would be able to hide in the five seconds she had before Alya walked through the door linking the front of the shop to the back. The papered surroundings provided no such place, and the auburn haired girl pushed open the door, one hand sliding a loose curl back into her pinned hair. Alya let the door close before breaking into a grin of pride.

“Marinette! You should come through, Adrien is complimenting you! And I _may_ have told him you finished the bowler hat, so you should probably bring that too.” Alya whispered to her friend. Marinette shook her head rapidly, her pigtails bouncing from side to side.

“No! I always make a fool of myself. Here, you take the hat-” she thrust the grey piece of headwear at Alya “-and tell him I’m ill. It’ll end better for everyone.”

Alya raised an eyebrow.

“I am not giving the man of your dreams the hat which you painstakingly crafted for him. Go out there and speak to Adrien!”

“You really should call him Monsieur Agreste, Alya-”

“Nonsense, we’ve known him far too long for such formalities.”

“I doubt Madame would agree...”

“Well, what Madame doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Now, go show him your incredible hat-making skills and win his heart!” Alya said, taking Marinette by the shoulders and pushing her towards the door.

“I highly doubt that’s how it wor- Monsieur Agreste! Bonjour!” Marinette exclaimed. She felt Alya remove her hands from her shoulders, and raised the bowler hat in front of her like a shield. Adrien looked up from the open sketchbook in front of him and smiled.

“Marinette! How are you?”

The girl in question blinked.

“I’m very well, thank you!” she sputtered, feeling her face redden. “Yourself?” She gripped the hat’s brim harder, channelling her nerves into her shaking fingers. Adrien stopped leaning on the shop’s counter, his fingers tugging on his shirt cuff to straighten it. The sharp cut of Adrien’s clothes made Marinette all too aware of her own, the pristine white blouse and gored skirt appearing less than fancy in comparison to Adrien’s own attire.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Adrien replied. “Although I wish you would call me Adrien. Monsieur Agreste is my father, and I have very little intention of turning into him.” He winked at Marinette, whose blush deepened.

“I – yes, of course – okay, yes, Adrien it is,” Marinette babbled, her eyes wide and smile nervous. Adrien’s emerald eyes lit up as his smile grew.

“Wonderful. I was just telling Alya how fantastic your designs are, Marinette,” he said, gesturing towards the sketchbook on the counter. Marinette looked at the floor, a small smile of pride gracing her lips.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft. “That’s very- I mean, you’re very-” she paused, words failing her. Marinette panicked, and thrust the bowler hat in her hands at Adrien. “Here’s your hat!”

Adrien blinked, looking from Marinette’s face to the hat and back again. He looked slightly concerned as he took it, his crisp white gloves brushing against her fingers as he removed it from her grip. He rotated the hat, looking over it, before looking back at her.

“Marinette, this is fantastic! I can’t wait to wear it around Paris,” Adrien said, placing the hat over his blonde hair. He smiled sincerely, and turned to examine his reflection in the mirror on the wall. “I’ll be the talk of the town, and it’ll be because of this hat!”

Whilst he wasn’t looking, Alya gave Marinette a thumbs up from behind the counter. As Marinette struggled to come up with a response, admiring Adrien admiring her handiwork, the bell above the boutique’s entrance chimed. Marinette spun towards the sound, her dark blue gored skirt twirling around her ankles. Her mouth had formed a professional smile, ready to greet a new customer whom she didn’t have feelings for; she was surprised to instead see Tikki, her face sombre.

“Madame,” Marinette said, falling into a small curtsey. “You’re back earlier than expected.” It was more of a question than a statement; timekeeping was her mistresses’ forte, and the unexpected arrival was concerning.

“Hello, Marinette, Alya. Bonjour, Monsieur Agreste,” Tikki said, turning towards him and smiling shortly. He bowed in response, placing his hand on the top of his hat to ensure it stayed on his head. “I hope my girls have been hospitable,” she continued.  Adrien smiled as he straightened, tipping his new bowler hat in the direction of the older woman.

“They’ve been perfect ladies, as usual,” he replied politely. Tikki nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it. Sadly, Monsieur Agreste, the shop will be shutting early today. My apologies; there has been news which requires my immediate attention.”

Alya and Marinette exchanged a glance, worry spreading within them as they looked back to their employer. Adrien’s smile fell, and a look of genuine concern crossed his features.

“I understand, of course. Is everything all right?” he asked. Tikki’s smile in response was tight, her eyes flicking towards Marinette.

 “We shall see.” The severity of her tone allowed for no questions, and Adrien nodded in understanding. He moved towards the entrance to the shop.

“I’ll be on my way, then,” he said. He looked towards the two shop girls, and broke out into a smile. “Au revoir, Alya! Thank you again for the hat, Marinette. It’s truly fantastic – you’re incredibly talented!” He called before exiting. Marinette raised a hand in response, waving at the already empty space where Adrien had stood until Alya pulled her arm down.

“Is everything alright, Madame?” Alya asked, smoothing down the front of her skirt nervously. Tikki paused before responding, selecting her words with the precision of a scalpel.

“Perhaps,” she pondered, her serious tone becoming resigned. “Perhaps not. Alya, I’m sorry, but I need to speak to Marinette alone. You will, of course, be paid for the entirety of today.”

The fact that it was a dismissal was unquestionable; Alya squeezed Marinette’s arm before leaving the boutique, her fast exit encouraged by Tikki closing the blinds of the shop as she left.

Silence hung between Tikki and Marinette as the former slid the final blind shut. She turned to look at the younger girl, and wasted no time.

“We must practice your routine immediately. Come, Marinette.” Tikki’s tone was brusque, her steps determined as she moved into the back room and opened what Alya believed to be a broom cupboard. The door swung open, revealing a wooden staircase.

“Tikki, what happened? Are you alright?” Marinette asked as she followed her guardian into the cellar of the boutique, clasping the banister with one hand and lifting the edge of her skirt up with the other to stop her from tripping. The small stage which had been built in the musty underworld of the shop had no props on it, and Marinette instinctively walked to centre stage as Tikki moved to the single chair placed at the back of the room.

“I’m fine,” Tikki replied. She gazed at the petite girl on the stage, confusion clear in her bright blue eyes. “Some... unforeseen circumstances have meant that our time has shortened considerably. You will be performing in the Underground tonight. Your routine must be flawless, and so you must practice.”

“What do you mean ‘our time has shortened’?” Marinette said, her quiet voice echoing around the cavernous room. She tugged on one of her pigtails nervously, a habit Tikki had tried to discourage over the years, and stared at her guardian. Tikki’s shoulders sagged for a split second, her head bowing to the ground in a gesture of defeat. She exhaled softly before regaining her determination, her flame-coloured hair spilling down her back as she raised her head sharply.

“The game starts tonight. And you have a routine to practise.”

Tikki paused for a moment, her tone softening as she looked at the concern written on Marinette’s face.

“Now, Marinette. Begin.”


	3. Taking the stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsals are over. The stage is set. The game begins soon, but not before two final performances...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a while to get out, but it’s pretty long to make up for it! Thank you Hannah for beta-ing this, and unintentionally summing up the entire love square with the comment “OH MY GOD FIGURE IT OUT YOU NUGGET”.

The Underground was a theatre rarely frequented by the upper classes of Parisian society. A small, shabby building in an area not known for its high quality establishments, the theatre stood on the corner of a side road leading nowhere, looking as if it was due to be shut down at any given moment. Posters of shows and acts long forgotten were peeling away from the walls, tattered by time and weather. Many passers-by often wondered aloud to their companions why the damned place hadn’t yet been renovated, or closed down for good. There were never any shows booked there anymore. What was the point of the place?

But to those who knew about the reality coated by the crumbling facade, who bothered to enter the run-down establishment, it was a simply beautiful theatre; the faded door, once opened, presented a cosy foyer, just large enough to feel homely whilst retaining a sense of intimacy between the theatre-goers. Plush red carpet softened the footfalls of the visitors, with golden banisters lining the stairs leading towards the darkened performance area. There was no furniture in the lobby; it was not a room made to linger in. Conversation, if any was to be had, was made standing up – the regulars knew to head straight for the stage in order to get the best seats, and those left to loiter in the entrance made do with seats at the back of the room.

Although no seats were bad per se, places at the front were coveted among the theatre-goers. The performances, though always enchanting, were spectacular up close; one could try to find the secret behind each trick, could watch with an eagle eye, and still come away mystified. Some performances had to be seen up close to be believed; from the back, you thought you were missing something, a trick of the light which made the impossible occur; at the front, for a few hours, you truly believed in magic.

Sceptics were correct in saying that shows were never booked for the Underground. However, that was not to say that there were no performances. Tickets were no longer sold for the theatre, a fact which many had understandably taken to mean that nothing was performed there anymore.

They were wrong.

The Underground had become a hub for less conventional performances, those which would not be hired in the mainstream theatres. Those who took to the stage of this theatre pushed the boundaries of belief, whether they were magicians and illusionists whose acts couldn’t quite be explained by logic, or dancers and acrobats who defied the limitations of their bodies. Rumour had it that, when Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse was in town, a member of the circus would scout the venue to pick up new talent. The few acts who didn’t reappear after nights when the Circus came to town only fuelled the fire of these rumours, but nobody could be sure that when new tents _were_ added, they belonged to performers from the Underground; it was such a rare occurrence for the circus to arrive that any performers who may have joined it had been long forgotten by their peers at the theatre.

It was the circus for amateurs; few people knew about the artful performers whose inexplicable talents wowed them regularly. However, they were not quite up to the standard of the circus. Tricks could go wrong. Performers could get hurt. Yes, there seemed to be magic, but it was rooted in reality. One performer had fallen off the stage attempting an acrobatic feat, and nothing brings an audience out of awe quite like an old lady being fallen on.

So when Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse reappeared, no wonder the audience favoured it still; the slick workings of the circus provided a welcome change to the amateur performances they were used to, and for a few nights the world sparkled in black and white.

But some artisans remained at the theatre, knowing that any performances whilst the circus was on would be particularly special, as a way of thanks for those who showed up.

Adrien Agreste was not a frequent visitor to the Underground, much to his own disappointment; though he loved seeing the performers show off their tricks to delighted audiences, he wasn’t often able to sit and watch them – he was usually the one on the stage, after all.

It had been a surprise for Adrien when he had arrived home to find Plagg waiting, having assumed that the meeting his mentor was attending would take longer. The older man had smiled wearily at him, and told him that they would be visiting the theatre. When Adrien had asked about the meeting in question – he didn’t know much about it, but he’d been informed that it would affect him in some way, something to do with a competition he knew little of – Plagg hadn’t responded, except to say that there had been some changes. Plagg had then patted Adrien on the shoulder, an unusual gesture of affection, and left the room before Adrien could initiate further conversation.

Adrien had spent the rest of the afternoon reading, a habit started before Plagg had taken him on as his apprentice, during the times when his father would leave him with only his assistant, Natalie, for company. Although Plagg was a much more present figure in Adrien’s life than Gabriel Agreste, there were still plenty of afternoons spent with a book for him to enjoy.

At least the books were more interesting now. Except for the one about the cheeses of the world, but Adrien had decided to skim-read that one.

When the time came for them to leave for the show, and Adrien had changed into his lounge coat, Plagg had seemed to undergo a transformation. He was less subdued, and spoke to Adrien more freely during the journey to the theatre. Whilst the older man still evaded any questions about his afternoon, he was certainly in better spirits.

The pair decided to walk to the theatre, relishing one of the last warm evenings of autumn. The powder blue sky faded into soft pinks and oranges as the sun began to set, whilst Plagg and Adrien walked into the tides of people heading towards the circus. Usually Adrien would have happily been one of them; like everyone else, he was a fan of the wonders Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse held, although for him the attraction was slightly different – instead of going for the mystery of the place, he went to observe those whose skills were on display, and see how his own compared.

But tonight Plagg had insisted, saying that Adrien would be able to spend a lot more time at the circus later. When Adrien had asked what he meant, Plagg had merely looked at him and shaken his head. They had turned the corner to the theatre by that point, and Plagg had refused to say more, ushering Adrien to their seats in the centre of the audience.

Confused, Adrien leaned over to Plagg. “Why are we sitting here? There’s a few seats left at the front.”

Plagg patted him on the shoulder. “We don’t want to be conspicuous,” he replied. When Adrien frowned in confusion, Plagg shook his head. “I’ll explain everything after the show. For now, just enjoy it.”

Adrien was about to question Plagg further when the atmosphere in the theatre changed instantly; the lights dimmed, and the chatter of the audience diminished as all heads turned to face the stage.

A girl walked on, her figure clothed in a black evening dress; intricate patterns of lace draped over the satin skirt and framing the bodice. The scarlet cape covering her shoulders billowed behind her as she strode to centre stage. She wore no jewellery save for two red earrings, and her face was covered by a simple red Colombina mask. It was her hair which caught Adrien’s attention; defying the pompadour style, the girl’s hair was pulled back into pigtails, a style which Adrien could have sworn he recognised from somewhere-

His thoughts were stopped in their tracks as the girl on the stage began to move. She turned around to face away from the audience, lifted one of her hands to the sky, and clicked her fingers. The sound echoed through the deadly silent theatre as her audience waited with baited breath for whatever was about to happen.

Above the girl, the air seemed to shimmer; tiny flecks of crimson began to appear above her, gently floating onto the performer’s cape. The flecks slowly increased in size until they were like tiny droplets of rain, becoming solid, still landing on the girl’s cape. As they somehow stuck to the fabric, they filled the crimson material and made it sparkle. Once it was filled with the falling substance, the girl spun to face her entranced viewers, newly-shimmering cape twisting behind her. Adrien blinked as he realised the cape was adorned with tiny gems, rubies if he had to take a guess.

“An illusionist?” he asked Plagg quietly. The man next to him placed a finger on his lips and shook his head before looking back at the stage. Adrien’s head followed suit, and he watched as the girl loosened the knot holding her cape, pulling it off of her back to reveal her bare shoulders. The short sleeved dress showed the girl to have the arms of a dancer, and Adrien admired her toned muscles as she began to spin the fabric in front of her, the theatre lights causing the gems on her cape to glimmer mercilessly.

She threw her cape into the air, the shimmering red silk floating back down slowly, softly, despite its new additions. The girl lifted her palm up towards the thin material, her eyes shut in concentration. When the silk caressed her hand, it seemed to disintegrate, the gems dropping heavily to the performer’s feet; yet they didn’t quite land, and the audience gasped as what had been tiny stones only seconds before split their backs, wings lifting them up into the air once more.

The ladybugs, still the sparkling red of the cape, spread into the crowd just close enough to confirm that they were real. One landed on Adrien’s glove, impossible to feel through the material yet stark against the pristine white. He gaped at it until he saw the girl on stage begin to spin, the skirt of her dress twirling around her gracefully. The ladybugs flew back to her, landing delicately on the moving girl. As each one landed they seemed to flatten, red circles staining the midnight dress.

The material seemed to change as she spun, her arms held elegantly above her head; the light, thin layers of lace seemed to melt together, stretching into a single layer of black satin, dotted with the red sparkles of what had been ladybugs. The girl stopped spinning, her hands gently dropping to her sides. She seemed to take a breath before throwing something into the air; what it was, Adrien couldn’t tell. Whatever she had thrown expanded, and suddenly her cape was once again floating down, landing elegantly on her shoulders and curling down her back. She tied the ribbon of the cape around her neck quickly, and did one final spin before bowing to the stunned audience.

There was a moment of silence, and then thunderous applause broke out in the theatre; Adrien was surprised that so few people could make such loud noise, although he himself was clapping so hard his hands were beginning to ache. Adrien watched as the performer relaxed considerably, and he was sure his heart skipped a beat when she smiled.

He was in awe, unsure of what he had just seen. That she was talented was a statement allowing no room for question, but how had she done it? Adrien was no novice himself, but material manipulation to that extent was incredible. There was a reason Plagg had brought him here; this girl was special.

But Adrien didn’t know why.

“Who is she?” Adrien murmured, staring in wonder at the girl bowing on stage. He barely heard Plagg’s chuckle when the older man leant towards him.

“That, my dear boy, is your competition.”

                                                                                                  ***

“Marinette, that was wonderful!” Tikki exclaimed as her protégée walked towards her, the backstage of the theatre empty but for the two of them. Marinette seemed to deflate in relief, tension melting off her with the compliment.

“You think so?” Marinette asked, her fingers moving to the rim of her mask. “I thought it might look too simple, it was over so quickly.”

“Sometimes the simple things are the best,” Tikki replied, taking Marinette’s hands before she removed her mask. “Leave that on, we’re about to have company.” She nodded her head towards something behind Marinette, who spun around quickly, hands dropping to her sides.

The man in the top hat was smiling as he strode towards the pair, his eyes sparkling as he took in Tikki and her companion. He bowed when he reached them, politeness overcoming familiarity.

“Hello again, Tikki. And this must be your protégée,” the man commented, taking in Marinette as he straightened up. “It was a wonderful performance, well done.” Marinette smiled at the sincerity in the man’s voice.

“Thank you,” she said, bobbing into a small curtsey. Tikki crossed her arms, eyes narrowing at the man.

“What are you doing here, Plagg? Shouldn’t you be with your own competitor?” Her voice was laden with suspicion, and Plagg raised his hands defensively.

“I just came to say I was impressed. You left my boy in awe, and that takes some skill,” he winked at Marinette. “I also wanted to personally invite you to his performance tomorrow night.”

“You know we’ll be there. Why did you come to tell us?” Tikki asked.

“You may be our competition, but there’s no reason for skulduggery between us anymore. The game starts in two nights. What harm could I possibly do from coming here, Tikki? I only ask for one piece of information, which will neither benefit my competitor nor harm yours –your stage name.” He had turned to face Marinette, who was watching the exchange in confusion. Her eyes flicked to Tikki, who paused before nodding once. Marinette looked back at Plagg, and curtseyed again.

“I’m Ladybug,” she said, her voice confident. Plagg tipped his hat in return.

“Well, Ladybug, it was a pleasure to meet you. I do hope you’ll enjoy my boy’s performance.”

Marinette smiled. “I’m sure I will.”

After bowing again to the women, Plagg moved to leave before Tikki’s voice cut through the silence.

“What’s the stage name of yours then? Fair is fair, after all.”

Plagg looked over his shoulder as he continued to walk away.

“Chat Noir,” he replied. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, ladies.”

                                                                                                       ***

The night passed in clouded dreams of polka dots and red shadows for Adrien. He woke the next morning feeling as though sleep had evaded him, despite the lingering feeling of those dreams already fading into the morning air as he opened his eyes. There was no time to pause, however; Plagg had told him the outline of the next few days, and Adrien had already been thrown into rehearsals for the night’s performance.

“You could have at least _warned_ me about tonight,” Adrien grumbled as he spun his baton, throwing it into the air and catching it elegantly.

Plagg let out a sigh from his seat in the corner of the room, hands draped over the armrests. “If I’d told you beforehand, you’d have spent the entire performance worrying. I thought you may as well enjoy yourself.”

The baton fell with a thud as Adrien climbed down from the stage of the Underground Theatre, empty for the day so he could practise, and jumped over the stairs leading to the audience. He stood over his mentor, arms folded over his black shirt.

“Well, yeah. I’m performing tonight for my competition who, may I just say, is exceptionally talented, and then tomorrow night I’m apparently joining Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse for some competition you won’t explain properly. Of course I’m worried!”

“The glass is always half empty with you, isn’t it?”

“Plagg!”

“Alright, alright!” Plagg stood up, forcing Adrien to take step back. The older man looked firmly at Adrien, putting a hand on each of his shoulders and meeting his eyes. “Listen to me. I know this is a lot to take in, but you can do this. The girl was surprisingly good, I’ll admit it-”

“She was _amazing_ ,” Adrien replied wistfully, a small smile playing on his face as he recalled Ladybug’s performance.

“ ~~-~~ but so are you. You’re working on your manipulations, but until then your acrobatics are undoubtedly good enough for the circus. You can win this game – you can beat her. And tonight is just a... sample, if you will, so the game isn’t a complete surprise to either of you. Now if you don’t want to practise anymore, that’s fine, but you have to be on top form from now on. Okay?”

Adrien nodded, the seriousness of Plagg’s tone betraying his worry. He shrugged the hands resting on his shoulders off and strode back onto the stage, picking up the black baton lying on the ground. He spun it carelessly as he turned back to Plagg, a smile he didn’t quite mean on his face.

“I guess I’d better practice a bit more then.”

                                                                                              ***

Marinette looked at the clothes laid out on her bed, hands on her hips as she glared at each piece. She knew she couldn’t take everything with her; how much luggage would Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse allow? She didn’t know how they travelled, or what her quarters would be like, or if she’d even _have_ her own living quarters.

There was a lot that Marinette didn’t know. She hated it.

The anger directed at the dresses dissipated as Marinette’s shoulders sagged. She picked up a pale blue piece, one of the first she had made completely on her own. She’d had _plans_ for her life. Tikki had promised that whatever contest she was in wouldn’t affect that, she’d _promised-_

Marinette stopped her thoughts before she could dwell on them. Tikki had been just as disappointed at the change of plans, she couldn’t have known what was going to happen. But God, Marinette wanted someone to blame for this. She clutched at the dress in her hands, blinking back hot tears as she thought about what her life would be in just over a day; she’d always enjoyed the circus, but she’d never planned on _joining_ the damned thing...

Her breath hitched as she heard footsteps tread softly up the stairs. Marinette wiped her eyes hastily with the heel of her palm, the dress draped over her arm. She heard the gentle click of the doorknob turning, and pretended to examine the dress as the door opened, inspecting its hem with false determination.

“Marinette, are you ready to go?” Tikki asked from the doorway.  Marinette looked over her shoulder, pulling her lips into a smile which didn’t meet her eyes.

“In a moment. I’m just deciding what to pack.” She gestured to the clothes strewn across her bed. Tikki stood next to her, and stroked Marinette’s hair affectionately.

“Sorry, Marinette, but we’ve got to go. You can do this tomorrow. I’m closing the shop for the day.”

Marinette’s smile slipped. “I want to spend tomorrow with Alya, so I was hoping I could get this done tonight. After all, I don’t -” Marinette gulped. “I don’t know when I’ll see her again.”

Tikki looked down, wrapping one arm around Marinette in sympathy. “Of course. Well then, you can finish packing when we get back – we really must get going.”

Marinette sighed, plucking a small tatted purse from her desk, and allowed Tikki to escort her out of the room.

“Should I wear the mask tonight?” she asked, carefully treading down the staircase into the shop in case she tripped.

“No,” Tikki responded, “the mask will make you more obvious. Tonight you must be anonymous.”

“But why? We leave tomorrow, what’s the point of the secrecy?” They left the building, and stood by the road as Tikki hailed a taxicab. One pulled to a stop, and the two women stepped into it. After giving the driver the address, Tikki looked at Marinette.

“I am aware of the absurdity of the rules, but believe me – it’s better for you to remain unknown to each other for as long as possible.” The severity of her tone stopped any questions Marinette might have had, and the rest of their journey to the theatre was made in silence, with Marinette staring out at the moving scenery of Paris, bathed in the weak glow of the setting sun, as she let unsaid words fill the space inside the taxicab.

When the driver pulled over to let the pair out, Marinette carefully arranged her skirt as she stepped out of the door so she that didn’t tread on it, holding her small bag under the crook of her elbow. She shut the door more forcefully than intended, earning a look of disapproval from Tikki.

They entered the theatre together, striking figures in their colourful evening dresses, Marinette in dark blue and Tikki in maroon. They had barely walked through the doors when Marinette held back a groan. Tikki followed her protégée’s gaze, and could hardly hold back a sigh of her own. Chloé Bourgeois, clad in sunflower yellow to match her perfectly coiffed hair, was laughing with Sabrina in the centre of the room. 

Marinette looked at Tikki, nudging her towards the entrance to the seats. Tikki’s eyes widened before she tilted her head at the door. Marinette nodded, and the two began to edge their way across the room, hoping that they wouldn’t be noticed by their rival designer.

Unfortunately, whilst Chloé herself was paying little attention to her surroundings, her assistant Sabrina had seen the duo, and alerted her companion to their presence. Chloé smirked as she spotted Marinette, eyes glancing over her outfit with disdain.

“Marinette!” Chloé called out, just loud enough for her to hear, “Whatever are _you_ doing here? You do know this is a theatre, and not a cabaret?”

Marinette looked fleetingly at the entrance before pushing Tikki towards it subtly.

“Get us seats, I’ll be there momentarily,” she murmured before facing Chloé. “I’m surprised to see _you_ here,” Marinette said. “Isn’t this a bit out of your area?”

Chloé lifted her head in derision. “Well, of course I usually wouldn’t be seen in an area such as this, but if Chat Noir is performing then I make an exception.” Marinette raised an eyebrow at her haughty words.

“You know of Chat Noir?”

Chloé snorted. “Of course. We’re well acquainted,” she said, inspecting her nails. “Sad to say, but he’s desperately in love with me. I make sure I come to his shows to humour him – naturally, my heart belongs to Adrien. But what can I say? I can’t bear to see him suffer.”

The look of utter disbelief on Marinette’s face seemed to pass Chloé by entirely. Marinette forced a smile, something she was getting rather good at recently, and tried to keep her incredulity to herself.

“That’s really something, Chloé.”

“Isn’t it though?” Chloe sighed, Sabrina nodding profusely next to her. “Of course, you won’t know the pain of having to reject such an attractive person. But believe me, it’s only a little bit fun.”

“I can only imagine.”

Chloé’s eyes narrowed at Marinette’s dry tone, and she raised her nose at her in scorn.

“Well, one day, if someone ever falls so far that they have to court you, maybe you’ll understand. Sabrina, let’s go.” Chloé spun on her heel and walked away, Sabrina following closely behind.

Marinette rolled her eyes before moving herself, praying that Tikki wasn’t sitting near them. She was relieved to see that her mentor had claimed seats near the centre, rather than at the front with Chloé. She strode towards her seat, members of the audience who were already seated politely standing up to let her through with ease.

“That,” Marinette said through gritted teeth as she took her seat, placing her bag on her lap, “was torture. Suddenly the circus doesn’t seem so bad. At least _she_ won’t be there.” Tikki patted Marinette’s hand.

“See? There’s a silver lining to everything,” she replied.

“Apparently my opponent is madly in love with her.”

“Really? That’s must be the fifth gentleman this month who’s in love with her. You know, if I didn’t trust Mademoiselle Bourgeois as much as I do, I’d suggest she wasn’t being entirely truthful with her rather large number of suitors.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh as the lights in the room faded, darkness filling the theatre like a cloudless night sky. Unlike her performance the night before, the stage remained dark; Marinette could barely see the person seated in front of her. She blinked when a green ball of light appeared, hovering in the blackness like a lone firefly.

The glowing orb seemed to grow, lighting up the room with an eerie radiance like a dream on the precipice of becoming a nightmare. Marinette stared at it, watching closely as it floated upwards into the heights of the theatre. The audience were craning their necks to follow it, darkness washing over them once more as it seeped away from the light.

It seemed to become smaller for a moment, before something reached out and grabbed it. The theatre became pitch black, members on edge as they waited in anticipation. The hand concealing the light let it go, and when it reappeared a face obscured by an ebony mask became clear to the audience. A cheshire cat grin could be seen below the mask, a black replica of Marinette’s the night before, and before the audience could take in the performer properly, he leaped down onto the stage, landing surprisingly softly on the wooden floor as the light seemed to move into the baton in his hand.

He was tall, Marinette observed as he straightened up, beginning to twirl the extending baton which had been concealed in his hand; clad fully in black, his shock of golden hair contrasted with his dark clothes, and brought attention to the two cat ears adorning his head. Marinette smirked slightly. She had to give him credit for commitment to his stage persona.

The grin slid off her face as, with a single tap of his baton on the stage, Chat Noir leaped into the air, somersaulting as he threw up his baton. His hand caught something invisible to the eyes of the audience, and he twisted himself so that he was standing on what seemed to be thin air. The falling baton landed in his waiting palm, and the audience arched their necks as he walked over them, a balancing act with no tightrope or net.

Chat Noir grinned as he walked confidently across the invisible precipice keeping him up, seemingly unconcerned about his defiance of gravity. Halfway through the audience, he thrust his baton into the air once more, spinning it into the heights of the theatre. He jumped with it, flipping so that he landed with only his hands on the tightrope which seemingly didn’t exist.

He grinned down at the audience, and caught the eye of Marinette, looking up at him in surprise. Winking at her, he leant to the side and released whatever was holding him up; his body dropped from above, falling towards the ground with alarming speed. Marinette’s eyes widened as she saw him plummeting towards her, unmoving in the confidence that there had to be some sort of trick, that surely he wasn’t going to actually _land_ on her-

She let out a breath of relief when she was proven right; Chat’s hand shot out, gripping the seat in front of her as he held his balance in a single-handed handstand. His other arm extended, contorting so his palm was facing upwards; the audience had been so focused on the acrobat, they didn’t notice the descending baton, which he caught without looking.

Balance unwavering, he shifted his arm towards Marinette, the baton retracting in front of her eyes; in the blink of an eye it had extended again, pushing against the floor to propel Chat Noir back into the air. Using the seats of the audience, he backflipped towards the stage, each chair back providing enough force to push him into another seamless, arching circle, high above the members of the audience. Somehow, he managed to avoid touching anyone, leaping between rows with ease.

One final backflip returned him to the stage, where he turned on his heel as he landed to face the audience, baton twirling over his head. He brought it down in front of him with a thud which echoed through the silent room; as the sound resonated, green light seemed to shoot out of the end of the baton, sweeping across the audience like a wave before dissipating.

There was a tentative moment of silence before he once more tossed the baton into the air, and bowed to the audience who burst into rapt applause. Still bent over, Chat’s arm against his back caught the baton as it dropped back to him, and only then did he stand back up. Placing his arm to his side, he extended the baton, taking himself with it so he rose into the darkness of the rafters once more, out of sight from the applauding observers.

Marinette smiled nervously at Tikki as she clapped, the people around her beginning to stand up, ready to leave. The older woman smoothed the front of her dress as she stood, a small frown creasing her face.

“Well, that was... something,” Tikki said.

“He was walking on _air_ ,” Marinette whispered, following Tikki’s lead and standing.

“Yes,” Tikki replied.

“Are you going to go backstage to see him and... Plagg, was it?” Marinette asked as they began to walk to the exit, weaving their way up the stairs and carefully avoiding the people milling around the foyer.

“No. We’ll see them tomorrow evening. There’s no need for such formalities, polite or not.” Tikki’s quick footsteps lead them through the dawdling audience to the doors, Marinette moving closely behind. Tikki’s hand was pushing against the door when Marinette cursed under her breath, causing her companion to face her.

“Marinette! Mind your language!”

Smiling awkwardly, Marinette raised her hands as she took a step backwards.

“Sorry, Tikki, but I’ve left my bag in the theatre – wait here, I’ll be right back!” Without waiting for a response, Marinette weaved her way through the crowd, back into the now vacant seating area. After picking her way through the seats, she found where she and Tikki had been seated, and saw her bag, the dark blue trim obvious on the bright red of the carpet. She scooped it up, clutching it as she turned to leave again.

“Are you lost, Princess?” A voice behind Marinette made her jump, a yelp of surprise escaping her. She spun on her heel, and found herself face to face with Chat Noir. Leaning against one of the pillars decorating the edge of the seating area, he had his arms folded across his chest, a grin spread across his face.

Marinette raised an eyebrow at the pose; she knew a lot of the performers at the underground were dramatic, but this was a new level of posing.

“No, not at all.” Marinette paused. “Are you?” she asked, wondering why he was lingering in the audience seating.

“I’m waiting for someone. Sadly, I don’t think you’re her,” he said, shrugging as he moved away from the pillar, his hands moving to his hips as he tilted his head slightly. “Unless you are, of course?”

Marinette blinked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she confessed, and she swore that the ears on Chat Noir’s head drooped slightly. “I’m just here because I dropped my bag.” She held up the small item as evidence, and the grin on Chat Noir’s face turned into a laugh.

“It’s okay, I believe you,” he said, one hand lifting to the back of his head. “But as I _am_ waiting for someone, I might have to ask you to leave in a moment. My apologies, Princess – it’s nothing personal.”

All at once, it clicked for Marinette; he was probably waiting to meet with Tikki, as Plagg had come to them the previous night. Feeling slightly bad that Chat Noir would be left waiting for her Mistress, Marinette placed a hand over her heart and shook her head dramatically.

“You wound me, sir. However, I won’t take offence,” she grinned. “But before I go, I would like to compliment you on your performance – it was quite spectacular.”

Chat Noir dipped into a shallow bowed.

“Thank you very much,” he replied. Marinette nodded, and realised that Tikki was still waiting for her upstairs. Dropping into a shallow curtsey, Marinette smiled at her competition; despite the posing, he seemed nice. She hoped whatever they were tangled up in didn’t mean that they couldn’t get along.

“Well, I must be on my way. I hope your rendezvous goes well,” she said.

“Oh, it’s not a rendezvous. Just a meeting between… friends?” Marinette heard the uncertainty in his voice, and held back a giggle at the questioning frown on Chat Noir’s face.

“Well, I hope it goes well. Au revoir!” before she could turn away, Chat Noir had dropped into a deep bow, his head rising to wink at her.

“Au revoir, Princess. I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

Marinette waved before spinning on her heel and quickly walking back up the staircase to where Tikki was waiting for her.

                                                                                                 *** 

“You know her?” Plagg asked as he walked out from backstage. Adrien smiled sadly, watching Marinette disappear up the stairs.

“Yes. She’s a friend – she’s the girl who makes your hats.”

Plagg’s fingers brushed against the edge of the bowler he was wearing, and his lips quirked upwards.

“She works for Mademoiselle Bourgeois? I owe much to her then, her hats have earned me many a compliment over the years,” Plagg said as Adrien tensed, eyes widening.

“Yes… for Mademoiselle Bourgeois. She’s very talented,” he replied, eyes flicking between the stairs Marinette had just walked up and the man in front of him. Plagg made a noise of agreement, and then slipped a pocket watch from his jacket pocket. Glancing down at it, he tutted and shook his head.

“Well, it looks like Madame isn’t coming. She wasn’t backstage, and if she isn’t here now then she never will be. She was never one to be late, after all… nothing to be done, I guess. Come on, Adrien, let’s get you home. It’s a big day tomorrow, after all – you’ll want your beauty sleep!” Plagg chuckled. His words were met with silence, as Adrien’s eyes stayed fixed on the stairwell. “Adrien?”

He watched his ward’s shoulders drop, tension seeping out of his frame. Adrien sighed and pulled his gaze away, wearing a weak smile Plagg had seen on too many faces before.

“Of course. Let’s go home.” Adrien moved past Plagg, pulling his mask off and clutching it in his palm. Plagg slid his pocket watch back into his jacket and turned to follow Adrien.

“Are you going to start moping? Because if you are, can you give me some warning so I know whether or not to try and make conversation?”

The pace of Adrien’s footsteps slowed, allowing Plagg to catch up with him. “I’m not moping,” he replied as they navigated their way through the backstage of the theatre to the dressing room, where a change of clothes was waiting. Adrien shut the door to the dressing room behind him firmly, the hinges squealing as they moved.

Plagg leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose as he played through the things that he should say in his mind; there were too many, few of which would be comforting. When the door creaked again, and Adrien walked out in the lounge suit he’d worn the previous night, a bag with his performance clothes slung over his shoulder. Before Plagg could speak, Adrien raised a hand.

“I’m not moping,” he said, his voice quiet, “but I won’t pretend I’m okay. This whole circus thing – I didn’t really take in that I would be leaving Paris. And seeing Marinette just reminded me that I’m going, and leaving my friends and my entire _life_ behind. So allow me a few moments of nostalgia before I’m sent away like baggage, okay?”

Plagg nodded, pushing open the door of the exit and gesturing for Adrien to walk through it. Adrien complied, leading the way into the back street behind the theatre. He and Plagg walked onto the main street, and Plagg hailed a taxicab to take them home. When one pulled over, the pair moved into the back seat, and Plagg gave the address to the driver. After a few moments of icy silence, Plagg decided to attempt conversation.

“So, that girl. Marinette, was it? She was pretty,” he remarked. Adrien’s head shot round, eyes wide in confusion at the unprecedented topic.

“Y-yes. She is,” Adrien replied, a question in his voice. Plagg raised his eyebrows.

“And as I’ve not heard about her up until now, I’m assuming there’s no _special_ reason you’re upset about leaving her behind?” Heat rose to Adrien’s cheeks, and he shook his head rapidly.

“She’s my friend,” he said emphatically. “I care about her a lot. I’ve known her for a few years now, of course I’ll miss her.”

Plagg smirked. “Not a lot of men in your position miss their hat makers.”

“She’s my _friend_.”

“And how well did the two of you know each other, if you’re such good friends?”

Adrien turned his head to the window, forehead leaning on the cool glass. “Not as well as I thought,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. There had always been a barrier between Marinette and himself, an awkwardness he hadn’t noticed until it had been absent when she spoke to Chat Noir. The worst thing was that he would never know why such awkwardness had been there in the first place; that they were friends, he had no doubt, but her confidence with Chat caused Adrien to wonder why _he_ was treated so differently by Marinette.

It didn’t matter now, anyway. He was leaving, and by the time he returned Marinette could have left Paris. Or gotten married. Or moved back with her parents in Rouen. The possibilities were endless, and applied not only to Marinette; Alya, Ivan, Max, and Armand could also have left Paris when Adrien returned, or forgotten all about their friend. Adrien’s head filled with these thoughts, images of returning, unknown and unwanted by those he had cared for, permeating his mind until a hand on his shoulder shocked him into reality.

The taxicab had stopped, and was waiting outside of his house. Plagg wore a look of concern, eyebrows furrowed at Adrien, who instinctively laughed off his behaviour.

“That journey was quick! Merci, monsieur,” he said to the taxi driver, pushing open the car door and stepping out onto the pavement. He waited for Plagg to join him before walking in, shrugging his jacket off and hooking it on a coatrack by the door. Plagg hung his hat on top of the rack, and called after Adrien, who had begun to head upstairs.

“You know, the last time I saw someone as pale as you, they were being lowered into a coffin.”

Adrien paused, looking behind him as he rolled his eyes. “Charming as ever, Plagg.”

The older man chuckled, and gestured to the living room. “I ordered us the finest wine and cheese for tonight. I thought it would be nice, one more time.”

For the first time in two days, Adrien’s smile at Plagg was genuine.

“That… actually sounds really nice,” he said, moving back down the stairs. Plagg grinned.

“Of course it does. Now, tell me about why you’re the colour of camembert. Talk to Plagg. Let me give you advice.”

“…I’m not sure I’d want to take any advice you gave, Plagg.”

“Well that’s rude.”

“You taught me to tell the truth, didn’t you?”

“Apparently I taught you too well. Now, where’s that cheese?”

                                                                                                   ***

By the time Marinette and Tikki had arrived back at the shop, night had fallen over Paris like a blanket of shadow. Marinette could hear the laughter and cries of children ringing through the streets of Paris, as weary parents dragged them back to their homes, promising them another night at the circus the next evening.

She envied them their joy; only months before, the circus had been a delight. Now, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

She had finished packing, folding her dressed into a bag, with small accessories curled up between the folds of material, protected by cloth and coils of ribbon.

A light blue scarf she’d knitted for an occasion she would no longer be there for. The twined yarn fell across her palms, a soft caress Marinette had hoped would grace someone else’s neck. She considered leaving it, telling Alya to pass it on to its intended owner, but decided against such an act. Better to cut the ties she could; Marinette decided to pack it, folding it carefully on top of her dresses, a reminder of the friends she was leaving behind for however long.

After all, Adrien wouldn’t miss a scarf he never had. Marinette wasn’t sure he would even notice when she left. The thought made her heart ache, a familiar sensation when it came to Adrien Agreste.

She let out a small sigh before pulling her hair from its ties, letting it fall onto her shoulders as she moved to look through the window for one more view of her little street. Marinette loved the city she lived in, but the street she had spent the last decade of her life on was one of her favourite places; waking up to a different view was something she wasn’t looking forward to.

Marinette looked over the shimmering midnight of Paris from her window, the Eiffel Tower illuminated in the distance, and wondered what her life would be in twenty-four hours.

Whatever it was, she hoped it would be good.

Across the Seine, Adrien was leaning on his balcony, praying for the same thing.

 


	4. The curtain rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took longer to update than expected! But it's nearly 8,000 words, so I hope that makes up for it!  
> Also a massive thanks to Hannah for beta-ing this fic, you're not only a fantastic writer but a wonderful friend.  
> Enjoy!

When the masses of Paris awoke the next morning, it was to great surprise that an announcement from Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse had been strung across the gates. A sign which had been hung on black ribbon, tied in elegant bows of midnight, declared:

_Le Cirque De La Miraculeuse will be closed tonight due to poor weather._

Indignation broke across Paris like a tidal wave; the circus had _never_ closed for weather before. If there was one thing that having the circus in town could guarantee, it was that there would be days in which the sky was an aquamarine sheet, and nights in which the stars glinted like diamonds speckled across the darkness. Poor weather, indeed.

But when the grey skies darkened as time ticked on, and the first spatters of rain began to hit the ground in a soft chorus, the people of Paris made their way indoors - after all, the circus wasn’t usually _wrong_ ; if it said there was going to be bad weather, then they believed it.

As the severity of the rain began to increase, two girls stood in a doorway, just sheltered from the rain. Alya’s arms were wrapped tightly around Marinette, holding her firmly in an embrace meant to carry them through until they were reunited. Marinette had wanted to spend her last day in Paris with her friend, a request Tikki had no problem with. After a brief explanation about why Tikki was closing the shop for the day, and a thought-out lie as to why Marinette was leaving for an unknown length of time, the two girls had spent their limited time ambling around Paris until the looming threat of rain led them into Alya’s home.

The afternoon ticked away as the ever-tightening rope of time wound itself around Marinette. Eventually, when the clock struck five, it was time for Marinette to say goodbye to her closest friend. Alya escorted her to the door, stepping outside under the cover of a small canopy. The rainfall echoed in the cavernous silence of unspoken goodbyes. The two girls moved into a hug, tightening their arms around each other.  Alya’s loose hair tickled Marinette’s nose as she held her friend.

“Promise you’ll write to me? I want to hear all about London,” Alya said, pulling back from Marinette to smile earnestly. Marinette nodded vigorously; Alya had believed her when she said she’d been taken on by a friend of Tikki to work at a boutique in England. The lie had been bitter on her tongue as she forced out the words which cut her final tie to Paris.

“Of course! And once I know my address, you must let me know how you’re doing – I’m going to miss you so much…” Marinette’s words trailed off, her throat tightening as sadness twisted in her heart. She hugged Alya again, suppressing the ache that only goodbyes can bring.  With a deep breath, she stepped back, taking Alya’s hands and squeezing them as she blinked back tears.

“I’ll miss you too. Now get going – you’ve got an early morning ahead of you, and Tikki will have my head if you’re back late.” Alya let go of Marinette’s hands and poked her friend’s shoulder gently, a sad smile on her face. Marinette nodded, stepping back to release her best friend.

“You’re right. I guess… I guess this is goodbye, then,” Marinette replied, her voice trembling. Alya tutted, placing her hands on her hips as she looked at her friend sternly.

“It’s goodbye _for now._ Don’t you get all emotional on me, Marinette. We’re going to see each other soon, and you’re going to bring me the latest fashions from London and lots of souvenirs, ok?”

Wiping a hand across her eyes, Marinette nodded. She exhaled shakily, arching one eyebrow at Alya.

“Should have known you were only using me for my souvenir potential,” she laughed.

Alya nodded. “Yes, the past few years have all been one long scheme for your eventual leaving so that you could buy me things. You saw right through my plan. Curse you.”

“Wow, Alya, that hurts.” Marinette rolled her eyes at her friend.

“Good. Now get off my doorstep and go home, the poor driver has been waiting for about five minutes now.”

Marinette nodded, the lump in her throat choking back words she desperately wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“I love you,” was all she could say to her best friend. Alya smiled softly, tucking a strand of Marinette’s hair behind her ear.

“I love you, too,” Alya replied. Marinette blinked to fight back tears, and lifted her umbrella to shield her from the rain cascading onto the pavement in a symphony of splatters. Alya’s butler, who had been standing diligently by the car, his own umbrella the same midnight blue as his uniform, rushed to open the door when she approached. Adjusting her dress carefully as she slid inside, Marinette turned to the window of the car and waved to Alya as the engine sputtered to life.

Alya watched the car until it was out of eyesight, taking her closest friend away to somewhere she couldn’t follow. Only when it turned a corner did Alya go back inside, and promptly burst into tears.

***

When the car stopped outside the boutique, Marinette was doing all she could to hold back the hot tears burning in her eyes. Alya’s butler opened the car door, offering his hand to Marinette, who took it with gratitude. He held an umbrella above her head as she stood up and extended her own. Marinette took a step forwards, then quickly turned back to face the butler.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling kindly at him. “For everything.”

“It has been an honour, Mademoiselle Marinette. I wish you the best of luck in London.” His thin moustache moved with his smile, and Marinette nodded before walking to the door. Pushing it open, she gave a little wave to the butler, who bowed in response before getting back in the car and driving away.

Marinette moved indoors, shutting the door with one hand as she placed her umbrella in the stand by the door.

“I’m back!” she called into the shop, striding through the interior towards the staircase. Tikki’s head popped out of the doorway.

“Marinette! Just in time,” Tikki called, her hair cascading over her shoulder as she shouted to her protégée. “Could you come back here?”

Marinette moved into the back room, where her bags had been stored. Tikki stood, hands behind her back, grinning eagerly at the younger girl. It was a smile which Marinette didn’t see often, one which Tikki only used when she had a surprise for Marinette or when something fantastic had happened.

Given the circumstances, Marinette assumed it was the former.

“What’s going on?” Marinette asked, peeling her gloves off her hands and placing them on the small table by the door. Tikki smiled, thrusting a small parcel towards her with a smile.

“Happy birthday, Marinette!”

Her protégée took the small package, the creased brown paper tied with a thin piece of string. It was light, so much so that the only indication that Marinette was even holding something was the prick of the paper’s folds against her palms as she cupped the gift.  Marinette’s lips curled into a smile, Tikki’s enthusiasm infectious.

“Tikki, my birthday isn’t for another eight months-” Marinette began with a laugh before Tikki cut her off.

“And we have no idea where you’ll be for it,” Tikki said firmly, her brow creasing as she placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve been planning to give this you for your twentieth birthday for years, and I’ll be damned if you don’t have it because the circus has taken you to a different part of the world.”

Like a cresting wave fading as the sand absorbs it, the brief moment of laughter ebbed from the room.

Marinette moved the gift into one hand, wrapping her free arm around Tikki’s waist and pulling her into a hug.

“Thank you,” she murmured, perching her head in the crevice of Tikki’s neck. Her mentor rubbed small circles softly on her back, her touch a balm to Marinette’s turbulent emotions. The reality of her situation was sinking in ever deeper, and she was relishing the time she had left at her home; the fact that she wasn’t going to be around for her birthday was just another nail in the coffin of her future.

“You’re welcome, Marinette.” Tikki’s words were as gentle as her touch, and as soon as she stepped back Marinette’s body filled with nerves.

“Now,” Tikki said, and Marinette could hear the slight tremble in her voice, “Find somewhere to put it, and we’ll have dinner before… before we go.”

Marinette’s eyes moved to the bags stacked against the wall, moved from her bedroom while she was with Alya. She nodded, gripping the parcel in her hand tightly. Tikki noticed the tension in Marinette, taking a step closer to her as she saw the flash of sadness in her protégée’s eyes before she pasted on a false smile. Tikki let out a breath, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Marinette’s ear.

“It’s going to be okay,” Tikki said, smiling reassuringly at Marinette. But the younger girl knew Tikki too well; Marinette didn’t believe her for a moment.

***

Paris was silent.

The sheets of rain blocked out the sounds of the city, dulling Marinette’s surroundings as the world became awash with the opaque clarity of rainfall. Marinette raised her parasol as she stepped out of the car, adjusting the mask tied carefully around her head. She tiptoed around the puddles which grew in size with every passing second, moving towards the closed entrance of the circus.

She was staring at the sign which declared the circus was closed when Tikki stood next to her.

“Are you ready?” the older woman asked, pulling at the cuffs of her marron jacket to straighten them as she angled her matching parasol under her arm to shield herself from the rain.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Marinette said, and Tikki turned back to face the car. She gave the driver a nod, and Marinette’s brow furrowed in confusion as he drove away, leaving them on the soaked street.

“Tikki, my bags-”

“He knows where to go.” Something about Tikki had changed during the journey to the circus; the woman who had been fighting to keep her voice steady over dinner had been possessed by steel, her posture impeccably straight and her face set in an uninterested stare as her eyes raked over the sign on the circus gates.

Marinette watched as Tikki looked around casually, as if time were nothing but a nuisance. When she confirmed that there was nobody else around, Tikki waved her palm. The door of the gate melted to the ground, black tar mixing with the weak rainwater on the pavement, and, gesturing for Marinette to follow, Tikki walked through the gap where the entrance had been.

As soon as Marinette and Tikki crossed through the gate enclosing the circus, the rain ceased. Marinette looked up, the clouds still a dark blur staining the sky, and lowered her parasol.

“How is this possible?” she murmured, which caused Tikki to laugh, her calm mask breaking momentarily.

“Two nights ago you transformed gems into insects, and you’re surprised by someone controlling the weather?” Tikki’s curls bounced as she shook her head, falling over her shoulder to trail down her back. “Oh, Marinette.”

Marinette gave a “hurumph”, raising her chin and increasing her pace, leaving Tikki to walk behind her. The older woman shook her head and clicked her fingers, the molten gate solidifying back into place. The ribbon and card twisted itself back into its position, as if nothing had happened. Tikki caught up to her protégée quickly, linking her arm with Marinette’s.

Her face was once again a mask of indifference, but Marinette could feel the tension coursing through Tikki. Her shoulders were ramrod straight, and Tikki’s eyes darted around as the air moved through the circus, the older woman guiding them without a thought.

When they reached a particular tent – _are those butterflies?_ Marinette wondered as she squinted at the intricate decoration – Tikki drew to a halt. Marinette tripped as Tikki’s footsteps stopped, her arm still linked with her mentor’s, causing her to stop unexpectedly. She regained her balance and looked at Tikki, who was staring at the tent.

“Now, Marinette,” Tikki began, not looking at the girl next to her, “once you go in, you must follow the instructions given to you. You’re on your own from here on out, but I have no doubt that you can win this.” She let go of Marinette’s arm, spinning to face her. Tikki lifted one hand to Marinette’s face and took in the droplets which had spattered on the younger girl’s jacket, dark blotches seeping into the plain red material; she couldn’t escape the ladybug motif even if she tried.

“I’ll see you in a bit, before you leave. But remember, stay distant, and _concentrate_. You can do this.”

She kissed Marinette on the forehead, and the younger girl smiled at her.

“Okay,” Marinette said, taking a deep breath before composing her face into one of stoic disinterest. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She turned away from Tikki and strode towards the tent. Marinette paused, steeling herself before pushing open the tent door and stepping into the unknown.

Tikki watched as Marinette walked through the door of the tent, disappearing as the cloth fell back over the space she’d walked through. Tikki let her face, so carefully calm as she waved to her protégée, fall. Her breath coming out in shaking bursts as she choked back a sob, her hand pressed against her mouth as if she could contain it. Tikki knew that no matter the outcome, this was the moment she was going to lose Marinette. 

She’d been on this side of the tent often enough to know. They were never the same after this.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned her head to see Plagg, his sombre expression mirroring her thoughts.

The game was about to begin.

***

Chat Noir had expected many things when he entered the tent.

A stage, perhaps. Maybe some chairs, or a table at the very least. Instead, placed in the centre of the room was a small stand with an envelope propped on top of it. The crisp white paper shone in the darkness of the tent, emblazoned with a cat’s paw and a ladybug, stark against their pale paper background.

A desire to open the envelope surged through Chat Noir, the anticipation of what lay ahead creating the urge to act, to do something, _anything_ other than stand around. But Plagg’s words rolled through his mind: _wait for her_.

It was killing him. The past few days had been wrought with tension, and it seemed like everyone entwined in this competition was determined to draw it out for as long as possible. Chat was tempted to open the envelope, just to get the ball rolling. The past decade had been leading to this moment, the beginning of it all, and he wanted to get it over with.

But if there was one person he would listen to, it was Plagg. So Chat Noir waited somewhat patiently for his competitor to arrive, trying not to count the seconds passing.

When he heard the soft murmurs of voices behind the tent, Chat Noir spun around to watch the door. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, could barely _hear_ them, but it was enough to know that _she_ was merely a few steps away.

Chat Noir realised he was about to properly meet Ladybug. His nerves, already wrought with anticipation, tensed.

He was staring as she walked through the tent door, the material held above her as she bowed through. She straightened, looking around the room before her eyes landed on Chat Noir. The canvas door dropped behind her, cutting out the light from outside.

The two stared at each other, unsure of how to proceed ~~.~~ , until Ladybug took a step forward, eyes flicking around the tent as she took in her surroundings. Her gaze settled on the table in the centre, and she moved towards it tentatively. She stopped by Chat Noir, keeping her face blank as she took hold of the card and scanned it for anything other than the printed symbols.

“I assume this is for us?” She asked, looking at her silent companion.

Chat Noir nodded. “Yes. I was told to wait for you before opening it.”

Ladybug gave him a small smile. “Thank you,” she replied. Deciding that informality just didn’t suit the situation, she turned to Chat Noir and gave a shallow curtsey.

“I’m Ladybug,” she said, and looked up to see Chat Noir smiling. She breathed a sigh of relief that he was willing to at least be civil with her; though she was determined to keep her distance, she felt that there was no reason to start on the wrong foot.

They had forever to get on each other’s bad sides, after all.

“I know.” He grinned. “I saw your performance the other night. I’ve never seen anything quite so spectacular.” Chat Noir bowed in return, darting his hand out to grab hers and pulling it to his lips. “I’m Chat Noir.”

Ladybug let out a small laugh as she moved her hand away. “I know. I saw your performance, too.” She smiled. “It was wonderful.”

“Thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he replied. As he drew himself out of his bow, Chat Noir gestured to the envelope.

“Well, Ladybug, what do you say? Shall we start this ridiculously mysterious competition we’ve been told so little about?”

She nodded, pointing her chin towards the envelope ash she tugged the rims of her gloves up her arms.

“You’ve been here longer. It’s only fair that you open it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “that’s very thoughtful of you,” Chat Noir said, reaching over to pluck the envelope off the table. Tearing it open with just his index finger, he pulled out a crisp white card. Words were written in a cursive script, matching the sign tied to the gates of the circus.

Chat Noir read the curled letters out to Ladybug:

_“Welcome to Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse._

_The two of you are about to begin something which you have been preparing for all your lives. Please follow Aurore so that the competition may start._

_I look forward to meeting you soon._

_Papillion.”_

Chat Noir finished reading the card, his lip curling slightly as his brow furrowed.

There was a pause.

“Well, that was anti-climactic,” Chat Noir stated, flipping the card to check there was no writing on the other side.

“Who’s Aurore?” Ladybug asked, frowning at her companion. Chat Noir shrugged in response, squinting as he moved the card closer to his face. Ladybug rolled her eyes and plucked the crisp card out his fingers.

“That can’t be it,” she murmured, glancing at the words on the card before looking back at her competitor.

“I promise it is.” Chat Noir folded his arms as he watched Ladybug frown at the card, amusement pulling his lips into a small smile as she practically pouted. Ladybug tutted, glaring whilst pressing the card between her gloved fingertips.

“Alright then,” she said, “We just need to find this Aurore woman-”

“I’m right here.”

Both Chat Noir and Ladybug spun at the new voice; they hadn’t noticed any light from the door, and Ladybug’s eyes narrowed as she took in the woman in front of them.

She was hidden in the shadows, the weak light from the gap in the tent roof just missing her figure. Aurore took a step forward into the light, and Ladybug looked over the newcomer as Chat Noir blinked in confusion.

The purple dress she wore fell just above her ankles, a scandalous piece of attire for anywhere other than the circus. The violet sleeves which puffed by her shoulders seemed to melt into her white gloves, the colour fading into the ice-white of her covered hands.

Her make up matched her outfit, a purple mask painted across her eyes and nose, with pale purple lips to match. Her hair was paper white, streaked with the deep purple of her dress, and rolled down her back in pigtails longer than Ladybug’s, sailing into the small of her back.

Ladybug and Chat Noir unconsciously took a step closer to one another, allying themselves against this newcomer. She wore dignity as if it were a dress, emanating a grace which Ladybug had been taught since a young age as if it were as natural as breathing. Aurore placed a violet umbrella in front of her, the tip poking into the floor of the tent, and leant forwards, smiling politely.

“I’m Aurore, curator of Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse’s weather and assistant to Papillion. If the two of you would follow me, we can get you started.”

She swept out of the tent like a whirlwind; one minute she was in front of the pair of bemused competitors, and the next the tent’s door was flapping shut.

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, matching expressions of confusion on their faces. Chat Noir shrugged, bowing as he extended one hand to the door.

“Ladies first,” he said. Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“How chivalrous of you,” she replied before walking out of the tent. She looked around to see if Tikki had stayed, but couldn’t see her mentor anywhere. The tent door fell back into place behind her, and she began to follow Aurore, who was still visible, though far in front of Ladybug.

She felt Chat Noir’s presence as his longer strides caught up to her. He slowed his steps so he was in time with her, but the pair walked in silence as they took in their surroundings, keeping one eye on the woman ahead of them.

When Aurore stopped, it took Ladybug and Chat Noir a good few seconds to catch up. She spun to face them, letting the duo take in what she was standing in front of before speaking.

Two white tents were sitting side by side, slightly away from the main area of the circus. In front of them was another table, an exact replica of the one in the tent. A note was waiting, propped up by a metal stand which had been twisted into the shape of a butterfly at the front, the card elevated between the wings of the insect’s metallic form.

Aurore gestured towards the note.

“Your instructions are there. I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, the woman walked away into the maze of tents. Ladybug’s mouth dropped open as Aurore disappeared.

“What _is_ it with all this skulduggery?” she said, exasperated. Chat Noir’s eyes widened as she turned to face him, her skirt twisting elegantly in the windless night. He shrugged, raising his palms upwards as he did so.

“I know as much as you do. I think that’s the whole point of all the mystery,” he said. He scratched the back of his head with one hand as he grinned at Ladybug, who didn’t look amused by the comment. “How about we open the envelope and find out? I did the last one, so I guess it’s your turn.”

Ladybug pushed her mask, which had loosened over the course of the evening, back onto the bridge of her nose. With deft fingers she spun the ribbon holding it in place into a tighter knot, and smiled at Chat Noir.

“Fair is fair, after all,” she agreed, picking up the envelope and ripping it open.

A card exactly like the one in the tent was pulled out of the stark white envelope, black ink trailing along in an elegant script.

_“They are yours to design. Once you are done, the competition will begin,”_ Ladybug read.

“They don’t like going into detail, do they?” Chat Noir said, rolling his eyes as Ladybug placed the card back on the small table. Ladybug didn’t respond, instead looking at one of the tents, inspecting it as she would a roll of material.

“I think we make them our own,” she said, and turned to Chat Noir with an eager smile. “I think we make them match the circus!”

Chat Noir gave a small smile, tilting his head at Ladybug. “I think that’s easier for some people than others,” he said, and Ladybug could hear the quiet anxiousness in his words. She moved back to him, placing one hand on his arm. Why she was comforting the man who would soon be her opponent, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t one to ignore someone’s distress.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just let the design flow from your mind!”

Chat Noir raised his eyebrows, and Ladybug noticed that his eyes were such a familiar shade of green…

“I guess I don’t have a choice but to try,” he sighed, and Ladybug wrinkled her nose.

“Well, yes. That too. Let’s get on with it, then.”

And then she turned, pigtails brushing her shoulders as she focused entirely on the tent in front of her.

Chat Noir watched in awe as the red from Ladybug’s dress seeped out into the ground, washing over the grass like a river of blood. It swirled towards the tent, soaking the canvas in its bright hue when it reached the tip. The colour bled upwards, dying the fabric as Ladybug’s dress faded into a crystal white. When the top of the tent had become the same shade as the edges of the canvas, Ladybug moved next to it.

Placing one hand on the canvas, the red material paled somewhat as the colour flowed back into her dress. When the tips of her sleeves were no longer white, Ladybug took a step back, observing her work.

It was too plain for the circus; of that she was sure. Ladybug tapped her chin as she thought, before an idea popped into her mind. With a click of her fingers, black dots sprouted on the material, growing in size until they burst from the canvas, black glass spotting the tent. She clicked her fingers, and tiny lights blinked on, creating dark shadows which eclipsed the plain red tent, small black moons on the crimson tent.

She turned to look at Chat Noir, who had used the same technique as Ladybug; pressing one of his gloves on the white material, Ladybug saw the ebony wash into the tent, seeping out of the glove. The tent was dyed in the midnight shades of black, and she nodded in appreciation at Chat Noir when he stepped away, his glove still white.

Chat Noir frowned as he looked at the glove, comparing it to his other one. He let out a sigh.

“I never could get the hang of material manipulation,” he said. “Oh, well. I’ll have to buy a new pair.” Chat Noir let out a huff of disappointment as he observed his tent.

“It’s simple, but it does the job. What did you decide to- oh come _on_!” He said, blinking in admiration as he turned to look at Ladybug’s tent. Ladybug let out a small giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.

“So you like it, then?” She asked. Chat let out a laugh.

“I mean, it doesn’t exactly fit the colour scheme,” Chat replied drily, gesturing to their black and white surroundings. Ladybug shrugged.

“Maybe the circus should consider adding more colours, then,” she replied. “We were told to design the tents, and we did. If they wanted them to match, they really should have been more specific.”

Chat Noir opened his mouth before shutting it promptly, eyebrows furrowing. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” he said, folding his arms and tilting his head to observe the bright canvas. “But I’m sure the colour scheme was _implied_. You have to admit, it stands out a bit.”

“Says the man whose tent is entirely black.”

“What’s wrong with the black?” Chat Noir asked. Ladybug crinkled her nose at him, causing Chat Noir to bite back a chuckle.

“It’s so… _plain_. The rest of the circus has designs, has… _something_. Your tent sticks out from sheer simplicity!”

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow. “True. But it’s still less ostentatious than yours.”

Ladybug eyed him, suspicion in her eyes.

“Aren’t you meant to be competing against me? Shouldn’t you be taking any advantage you can get, considering we don’t even know how this thing is judged?” she asked, earning her a shrug from her companion.

“We haven’t started the game yet. We may as well begin on an even playing field.”

Ladybug gave a “hmmm” of consideration before her lips quirked upwards. She shook her head, and in the blink of an eye the bright material had darkened into a scarlet hue, black bulbs sprouting from the dark spots, illuminating the canvas with black light. Ladybug smirked as she arched her neck, watching him for his reaction to the change. Chat Noir nodded appreciatively.

“You’ve got skills,” he remarked. Ladybug bit back a smile.

“Thank you. So do you, Chat Noir.”

He shook his head. “Not like that; your manipulation is incred-”

“Are you _quite_ finished?”

Aurore’s voice surprised them both, and they spun to face the woman leaning on her umbrella, one hand raised to her eyes as she inspected her glove for speckles of dirt.

“You tell us,” Ladybug said, her words a challenge. Aurore raised an eyebrow before walking over to the newly designed tents.

She surveyed them fully, eyebrows raised as she took in Ladybug’s scarlet canvas. Her eyes flicked to Ladybug, who was standing straight as she met Aurore’s gaze, almost daring her to comment. Aurore smirked before waving a hand towards the tent.

“Make the bulbs bigger. The red will be acceptable if it is covered more.”

Refusing to look away, Ladybug increased the size of the black bulbs scattered across the scarlet by a marginal amount. Chat noir openly gaped at her, looking between the accessories on the tent which she’d manipulated with ease.

A look at the ever-so-slightly adapted tent seemed to be all Aurore needed. She smiled at the two of them, and Chat Noir held back a sigh of relief as she nodded in approval. Her purple dress was darkened by the lights of Ladybug’s tent, the shades blurring together as her face was highlighted in the darkness. The purple of her dress blurred as the black light melted the colour until only the very front of it remained the same shade of violet.

The make-up painted elegantly on her face was striking as her lilac lips twisted upwards.

“Now, it’s time to start the game. You have your Miraculous?”

Both Chat Noir and Ladybug nodded; Chat raised his hand to show Aurore the ring on his finger, whilst Ladybug tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ears to display her earrings. Aurore gave a slight smile in return before pointing at them with her umbrella.

“Take them off,” she said, her voice stone. Ladybug and Chat Noir glanced at each other. Ladybug shrugged, slipping her earrings off carefully whilst Chat tugged off the ring. Aurore motioned for them to come closer, her gloved finger crooking as she smirked.

“Give them to each other, and put them back on the other person,” Aurore instructed. “You,” she snapped, pointing at Chat with her umbrella, “take the gloves off, too.”

Chat Noir complied, frowning as he pulled his black gloves off. The night was cold, and the sharp chill snapped at his bared hands as he shoved the gloves into the pocket which hid in the lining of his jacket.

He turned to Ladybug, who was holding out her earrings towards him, the small red dots bright in her black-gloved hands. Chat dropped his silver ring into her open palm before carefully picking up the earrings and placing them in his own waiting hand. His eyes flicked to Aurore, who pulled her unopened umbrella up over her shoulder, balancing it on her sleeve as she gripped the handle, her other hand on her hip.

“Good. Now, Ladybug – put the ring on him.”

Ladybug frowned at the order.

“Why? What will that do?” She asked. Aurore smiled sweetly.

“So many questions for a girl with no choice. Put the ring on him. It’s time for the competition to start, Ladybug.” There was a threat in her voice, and Ladybug swallowed back a retort. She wanted to protest, to refuse; but Tikki had warned her that once the Miraculous had chosen her, she was bound – to refuse would be to accept defeat, something which Tikki had been so emphatic about avoiding.

So Ladybug took Chat Noir’s empty hand which had borne the ring, and slipped it on him. In an instant the silver had darkened, black seeping through the ring as Ladybug’s eyes widened in alarm.

Chat Noir yelped, and Ladybug dropped his hand in fear. Green light spread from the ring, covering the ground in an eerie glowas a cat’s paw appeared in the centre, four circles over the paw which shone like a beacon. Chat Noir looked at it, the green of his eyes brightened by the glow, and turned to face Aurore. Fear and concern lined his face as Ladybug watched the light spread into the horizon.

“What was _that_?” Chat Noir hissed, rubbing the finger where the ring sat. Aurore raised an eyebrow before looking at Ladybug.

“Your turn,” she said, motioning for Chat Noir to return the gesture. He glanced at Ladybug, his mask unable to hide the frown forming on his brow. He looked as if he were about to protest when Aurore lifted her umbrella, and lightning crashed into it, colouring the monochrome circus in dazzling light for a split second. Aurore smiled all the while, her gaze never wandering from Chat Noir’s. His face seemed to tighten as he gripped the earrings in a fist, ignoring the pricks of their stems on his skin.

Chat Noir looked back at Ladybug, who was still staring at the green light as if she could force it back into the ring with her glare alone. He placed one hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him. Her fists were clenched as she nodded once to indicate her consent, tilting one of her ears towards him. Chat Noir brushed back a strand of hair which had fallen back over her ear.

“It… it hurts, there’s this shooting pain, but it won’t last long. I’m sorry.”

Ladybug gave him a small smile of reassurance. “It isn’t your fault.”

He took a deep breath, and carefully slid one of the red spots through her ear, pinning the back of it delicately. He met her eyes, gauging them for any pain, and she blinked.

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” she whispered, and Chat’s eyebrows rose up as he gave her a half smile.

“Lucky for some,” he said drily, pushing the other earring through more confidently. Everything seemed to be going fine, until he pressed the back of the earring on.

It was like a fire spread through the circus; a heat seemed to snake across the grounds, red light curling over the tents as Ladybug bit back a scream. Her ears were burning, silver pain streaking through them as Chat Noir pinned the second one. He stepped back abruptly, looking at her with concern as a whimper escaped her.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and Ladybug nodded. The warmth of the magic dissipated in an instant, leaving the cool air of Autumn to brush over the circus once more.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice shaky. “I’m - that _hurt_ ,” she said, glaring at Aurore. The other woman merely shrugged.

“Congratulations,” Aurore said, “you’ve now begun the game.” Her stoic face slid into a grin. “I look forward to watching you compete. You may go find your mentors to say goodbye before we leave.”

With that, Aurore walked away, leaving two shaken figures in the beginning of a new life neither understood.

“What just happened?” Chat Noir asked, scratching the back of his head as he watched Aurore disappear through the tents. Ladybug gingerly touched her earrings, a slight burning still coursing through them.

“I think… I think we were just bound to the game,” she replied, looking at the black ring which shone in the midnight. “Do I have anything on my earrings?”

Chat Noir leaned down to observe her as she turned her head, arching it so her earrings were visible to him.

“Yes – there are five black spots, four on the edge of the earrings and one in the centre.” He straightened up, and let out a soft laugh. “Looks like our stage names were chosen for a reason.”

Ladybug smoothed the front of her skirt before gesturing at Chat Noir’s outfit.

“Apparently so. No wonder your outfit is so well thought out.”

Chat Noir tilted his head to the side, folding his arms as his eyes narrowed.

“And what does that mean?”

Ladybug giggled, pointing to the cat ears in his hair. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s just that you’re very in character. You have a _tail_ , for goodness sakes!”

Chat Noir grabbed said tail, spinning it in a circle as he waggled his eyebrows at Ladybug.

“Well, of course. There’s no point in it if you don’t dedicate yourself, is there?” He winked. Ladybug shook her head, taking a step back from him. She silently berated herself; it was too easy to be casual with him, and one of the few pieces of advice she had been given for this competition was to stay away. She straightened her posture, and her face became a mask of cool indifference, one which she’d learned from observing Tikki with particularly rude customers.

Chat Noir noticed the change in her demeanour instantly. His eyes glanced over her new formality, and he raised an eyebrow as he felt her trying to build a silent wall between them.

“Have you been told to keep your distance, too?” Chat asked. Ladybug’s determination fell away, and she nodded in response.

“Yes. It’s all been a bit cloak and dagger, hasn’t it? I mean, it’s just a competition. One of us wins, one doesn’t. I still don’t understand what’s going on, or why this whole thing is so… clandestine,” Ladybug said, brushing her bangs out of her face as her shoulders sagged.

“Me neither. It seems a shame to be at odds when you seem so charming,” Chat Noir grinned, and Ladybug raised an eyebrow.

“Sadly, that is the nature of competition,” she replied, tugging the edges of her gloves which had begun to wrinkle, sliding down her arms throughout the night.

“Pity,” Chat Noir murmured, and Ladybug’s eyes shot up. He smiled at her, hands falling onto his hips as he looked around their surroundings. “Still,” he continued, “I see no reason for us not to be at least civil to one another, even if we must ‘keep our distance’ – after all, we’ll be side by side for the foreseeable future.” Chat tilted his head towards the newly designed tents, and Ladybug followed his gaze, fighting back a small smile.

“Well, you do make a very good point,” she mused, one finger lifting to her chin. “Distance doesn’t mean being ill-acquainted.”

Chat’s grin grew even wider, and he stooped into a low bow.

“In that case, it would be my pleasure to escort you back to our mentors, if my Lady wishes.” Chat Noir winked at Ladybug, who covered her mouth with her hand as she let out a soft giggle.

“ _‘My Lady?’_ That doesn’t sound particularly distant,” she smirked, her pigtails bouncing as she shook her head.  Chat Noir shrugged, still tilted in a bow.

“I never said I was going to be _good_ at keeping my distance,” he said, looking into Ladybug’s sky blue eyes, which seemed to sparkle even in the dullness of the clouded night.

“Well, I’ll make sure to keep mine then.” There was no venom in her words, but Chat Noir could tell she wasn’t quite joking. He straightened up, offering her his arm.

“Whatever you wish. But we still have to find our mentors, and I have a feeling they’ll be together. So we may as well be, too.”

Ladybug let out a huff of amusement, taking the proffered arm. Chat Noir’s jacket was a simple design, elegant in its lack of adornments, and Ladybug admired the beautiful simplicity of it. Linking her elbow with his, the pair began to walk through the circus, taking in the variety of tents. Ladybug was sure that Chat Noir had also been here before, but there was something different about the circus when it was empty. The magic of it was different, less condensed.

There was still magic, even without performers; somehow the tents seemed alive, their canvases each a piece of art in its own right. The twisting, delicate patterns on each one were more intricate than Ladybug could take in with a glimpse, and part of her was thrilled that she would be able to view them all at a more leisurely pace another day.

She tried to focus on that, rather than the burning in her earlobes.

As they turned the corner of a tent, looking out for their mentors, Ladybug tried to break the silence. It wasn’t awkward by any means – and that was the problem. She felt strangely comfortable with this man she’d known for such a brief period of time, and Ladybug knew that falling into the sensation of comfort would mean that distance would become impossible. And although she was questioning Tikki’s instructions, she didn’t want to go against one of the few things she’d been told about this mysterious competition quite so quickly.

“I doubt our mentors will be too happy to see us like this,” she said casually, keeping her eyes on where they were walking.

“Mine certainly won’t be,” Chat replied. “Although he’s softer than he appears; I doubt he’ll start screaming at us immediately.”

“I met him after my performance. He seems nice,” Ladybug said.

“Sadly, I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting your mistress after my show, my Lady.”

A sly grin curled on Ladybug’s lips as her eyes glanced to Chat.

“No, you did not,” she replied. “You’ll just have to wait a little bit longer.”

“I can hardly contain my excitement.”

Ladybug wasn’t sure if he was joking, but she let out a huff of amusement at his dry tone nonetheless. They wove through the tents in an amicable silence, halting now and again when they realised they had passed a tent before. Unlike their mentors, they weren’t as sure of their way around Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse, and it took them a few attempts to find the right path.

Ladybug realised it first. She saw two figures, one familiar, one less so, waiting by the tent they’d vacated earlier. She smiled when she saw Tikki and Plagg, and nudged her companion, who was looking up at the clouds which slipped over the circus like a dream.

“Look, there they are. Tikki!” Ladybug called, a gloved hand raised in greeting as she spotted the duo by one of the tents. She released Chat Noir’s arm and began to walk a step faster, moving across the ground as gracefully as if she were floating.

Chat Noir saw the woman standing next to Plagg, and froze.

_Oh no_.

His eyes snapped from Tikki to Ladybug, who was now walking in front of him, her pigtails brushing against her shoulders with every step -  those very _familiar_ pigtails which he’d only ever seen one other girl in Paris wear, in a tiny shop he had never been meant to go in…

And suddenly Chat Noir understood exactly why Plagg had told him to shop exclusively at Chloé Bourgeois’ boutique.

Chat Noir hadn’t believed his mentor when Plagg had told him that bad luck would be entwined with his life when the Miraculous had chosen him. He was much more amicable to the idea now.

A chorus of _oh no oh no oh no oh no_ rang through his mind as he saw Ladybug – no, Marinette, it _had_ to be – curtsey to Plagg before Tikki placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Words that Chat couldn’t hear through the buzzing realisations flying through his mind were exchanged

“Plagg, why is your apprentice looking at me like he’s seen a ghost?” Tikki asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy in question. Plagg looked over at Chat, concern lining his face. He shrugged, creating a façade of nonchalance which nobody quite believed.

“No idea.”

Walking towards Chat Noir with a swift stride, Plagg slid an arm around him to turn him away from the two women watching them in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Plagg murmured, apprehension in his eyes. “And don’t say ‘nothing’, the last time you looked this shocked was when Nathalie revealed that Papa Noël isn’t real.”

Chat Noir shook his head, trying to look anywhere but the people around him; because if he was right, and he was almost certain that he was, then the decade of warnings – _don’t get too close, Adrien, in this competition it’s every man for himself –_ was about to become irrelevant.

“Adrien?” Plagg whispered, worry lacing his voice

“I’m sorry,” Chat Noir said, his eyes wide as he looked at his mentor. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why? Adrien, _talk_ to me,” Plagg urged.

Chat Noir let out a dry laugh, one hand moving to run through his hair as he shook his head. He looked to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut, as if that could make everything better.

“I’ve made a mistake, Plagg. I – I’m sorry.”

He met Plagg’s gaze briefly before looking over to Ladybug – _Marinette._ He was far enough away that he couldn’t see the blue eyes under her sparkling mask, but he could tell that she was watching him.

Before Plagg could protest, Chat Noir took off his mask.

***

The world seemed to stop. The background noise from Paris itself, a mixture of rainfall and life ebbing into the surroundings of the circus, ceased to exist to Marinette. Because Adrien Agreste was standing in front of her, and she was hit with the realisation that he was her competition.

She had fallen for someone she wasn’t meant to have met, someone she had been told in no uncertain terms to stay away from.

Before anyone could speak, could _blink_ , Tikki was striding over to the two men, flaming hair trailing behind her as she swiftly moved towards them.

“What is this?” Tikki hissed, her elegant face twisting into a look of pure anger. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re playing at, Plagg? _They weren’t supposed to meet!”_

Adrien gulped, eyes widening as his suspicions were confirmed.

Plagg’s hands shot up in defence as he stepped in front of Adrien, creating a barrier between him and Tikki.

“I have about as much idea of what’s going on as you do, Tikki. In fact, by the looks of it you know _more_ than I do, so could one of you please explain how you know Adrien when he was emphatically told not to go anywhere near your shop?” Plagg said defensively, turning his head to look at the boy in question.

Adrien blinked as everyone’s attention focused on him, one of his hands squeezing his forearm nervously.

“Well,” he began, “funny story, that…”


	5. Interlude: Adrien Agreste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One decision changed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three months, we're back in business! Thank you so much to Hannah for beta-ing this, you're the best! <3

**_Paris, 1897_ **

_The death of spring is welcomed by most Parisians; summer has awoken, bringing heat which has been longed for since December. The ice of winter had been particularly vicious this year, the coldest anyone could remember, and it was only with the thawing of spring that Paris could begin to once again remember the joys of warmth._

_Adrien Agreste basks in the gentle heat of the sun, pausing his walk. He knows he should be in a rush, but he can’t bring himself to step away from the railing by the Seine he’s leaning against, his sixteen-year-old heart revelling in the simple pleasure of a clear summer’s day._

_Eventually though, he knows he can’t linger any longer; Plagg gave him a job to do, and no matter how reluctant he is to do it, Adrien moves away from the river and starts to walk the familiar route to Chloé Bourgeois’ shop._

_He’s known Chloé since they were young, two children paraded in front of their father’s friends to show that of course they were good parents, look how happy the children are! Although Adrien is no longer obliged to attend those dreary dinner parties – the perks of being an apprentice to a magician, he thinks – he still sees her on occasion when he has to make an order for new clothing items._

_She doesn’t_ need _to work in a shop, Adrien knows; Monsieur Bourgeois is wealthy enough that his daughter will never have to do a hard day’s work in her life. But Chloé decided to volunteer her services to her dear friend Sabrina’s shop so she could help her friend’s small business – at least, that’s what she’d told Adrien._

_But he has a feeling that his friend isn’t telling him the exact truth, and a suspicion has begun to creep into the back of Adrien’s mind which makes him loosen his collar as he weaves through the masses of people taking a stroll on this fine day._

_Chloé is always at the shop when he’s picking up an order, beaming at him, batting her eyelashes, and whimpering that she just doesn’t_ see _him enough anymore. But when he goes in with Nino, unannounced, there’s only Sabrina inside, desperately trying to meet all her orders with Chloé nowhere to be found._

_Adrien knows that if not for the shop, he wouldn’t see Chloé at all. Apparently she’s aware of this, too. But somehow, despite Adrien’s disappearance from his father’s social circles, there’s a rumour going around that the childhood friends will be married by twenty._

_Adrien thinks otherwise. Chloé does not._

_He’s spent the last six years learning things which most people believe impossible. Adrien Agreste changes every day, as he broadens his horizons through books and, occasionally, travel. He’s sixteen ~~,~~ and does not want to marry Chloé Bourgeois after he’s finished with his education. But Adrien isn’t naïve; he knows that with his father’s wealth he’s been deemed an eligible, if reclusive, bachelor, and Chloé is nothing if not determined to make a match with her childhood friend._

_It wouldn’t be so bad, Adrien thinks, if he had it in him to break her heart. But he’s too afraid to fracture one of the few friendships he’s managed to keep over the years, and hopes that she’ll take one of the many, many hints he gives her that he’s just not interested._

_Besides, for some reason Plagg_ insists _that Adrien buy his hats in that particular store, and whether his mentor is playing matchmaker or just really like Sabrina’s hats, Adrien doesn’t know. But usually Plagg has a reason for everything, and Adrien trusts him. So he keeps going back, and his collection of expensive hats grows over the years._

_Adrien isn’t paying attention to where he’s going; he doesn’t need to, he knows the way with his eyes closed. He carefully slips past strangers on the street, careful not to bump into anyone. And later he would swear to himself that the man wasn’t there before, but suddenly Adrien is walking head-first into the man’s his chest._

_Adrien stumbles backwards, his top hat falling off his head as he regains his balance. The man seems to be unperturbed, merely looking at the boy with a raised eyebrow._

_“My apologies!” Adrien says, smoothing down the front of his jacket. “I didn’t see you there, I’m terribly sorry.” The man waves off the apology before swooping down to pick up Adrien’s fallen hat. Adrien reaches out to take it, the thanks in his throat as he opens his mouth to speak, but the man scrutinises the hat instead of returning it._

_“This is looking a bit worse for wear, isn’t it?” the man says, placing the hat in Adrien’s waiting hand. Adrien brushes off the dust on the brim before putting it back on his head, his gratitude dying on his lips._

_“I’m actually on my way to pick up a new one,” Adrien says defensively, frowning at the stranger’s forwardness as he pulls the rim of the top hat down slightly. The stranger raises an eyebrow, adjusting his cufflinks as he speaks._

_“I’m glad to hear it. Where exactly are you getting it, if you don’t mind me asking?”_

_Adrien does mind, but he knows that manners are everything; he’s seen a few familiar faces walk past him as he talks to the strange man, and it will do no good to his or Plagg’s reputation if he rudely brushes off the man, no matter how much he may want to._

_“Sabrina’s,” Adrien replies coolly. The man nods, murmuring in response. His eyes glance up from Adrien’s face to his hat, and a smirk grows._

_“Well, if it’s the same place you bought_ that _one, you may want to change your chapelier.”_

_Adrien steps back, affronted by the man’s audacity. He’s ready to protest when the man raises his hands, glancing at Adrien’s ring before meeting his eyes._

_“It’s too large for you. She’s given you a hat for an adult, rather than one for your age. It looks out of proportion, although the hat itself isn’t bad.” The man considers Adrien, scrutinising his face with a critical gaze. It feels like a test, and Adrien isn’t sure he’s going to pass. But the man smiles, one that doesn’t reach his narrowed eyes, and he dips his black-gloved hand into his jacket. He draws out a card and holds it towards Adrien. “You should try this boutique. I’ve never met a better chapelier.”_

_Adrien shakes his head, trying to maintain a polite smile._

_“Thank you, but no. My master insists that I shop only at Sabrina’s, and I wouldn’t betray his trust for the world.”_

_With a tilt of his head, the stranger raises an eyebrow at Adrien. “Really? How interesting. Who are you apprenticed to, if I may ask?”_

_Adrien lets a small smile of pride slip onto his face. “Monsieur Plagg,” he replies, his chest puffing slightly. Plagg isn’t exactly a socialite, but he is certainly well known among Parisian high society. The stranger lets out a sound of understanding, and grins almost ferally._

_“Well, that would explain it. Monsieur Plagg has had numerous affairs with some of the biggest names in Parisian fashion. This woman in particular,” the man holds up the card, black cursive stark and elegant on the cream paper, “would certainly_ not _want to see him again. However, I’m sure_ you _could go in without fear of retribution. She doesn’t know who you are, after all.”_

_Adrien frowns slightly; the idea of Plagg having affairs seems out of character. Plagg has many flaws, Adrien will be the first to admit it, but womanizing certainly isn’t one of them._

_“Thank you, but I have to refuse.”_

_The man nods. “I admire your loyalty,” he says. “But should you change your mind, here’s the card.”_

_A surge of distrust rises through Adrien like a wave, and he hesitates; but he decides to take the card, if only to end the conversation. He tucks it into a pocket, nodding._

_“Thank you,” Adrien says, giving the man a fake smile before slipping a pocket watch out of his jacket. Adrien glances at it before clicking it shut, a half-smile gracing his lips. “I do apologise, but I’m running late. If you’ll excuse me…”_

_The stranger lets out a sharp laugh as Adrien steps aside, beginning to move away from the conversation. The man’s arm shoots out as Adrien slides the pocket watch back where it came from, and Adrien tenses immediately._

_“You’re worried Plagg would be angry?” The man asks with a grin. He leans slightly closer to Adrien, dropping his voice into a whisper. “Then don’t tell him.”_

_Adrien pulls his arm away and continues to walk; he wants nothing to do with this odd, odd man, wants to pretend the whole conversation never happened. A strange man insults his hat, accuses Plagg of affairs, and then expects Adrien to go to his preferred chapelier? The nerve!_

_Adrien is tense as he leaves, trying to shake the encounter from his mind as he moves through Paris. His hand involuntarily brushes the rim of his hat as he crosses a road, seeing Sabrina’s shop come into view across the street. He shakes his head, pulling his arm back to his side as he closes the gap between himself and his destination._

_Why would he want to take fashion advice from a man in a purple suit anyway?_

_***_

_He wasn’t going to take the advice. He really wasn’t._

_But what was supposed to be a five-minute trip had extended to an hour, with Chloé insisting that Adrien try on every new hat in the store._

_There were a lot of hats. Some of which he had to try on twice._

_He’d been inside so long, the crystal blue of the sky had dulled to grey, clouds looming over the previously bright cityscape_

_Adrien knows Chloé isn’t_ trying _to drive him mad, but after hat number seventeen he’s halfway there._

_It takes Adrien far too long to escape the chapelier’s, and he winces, looking at his pocket watch as he begins the walk home. Plagg’s dinner started half an hour ago, and if there was one thing which he couldn’t stand, it was tardiness to meals. Really, Adrien thinks as the weight of the pocket watch pulls down on the lining of his jacket, Plagg should be grateful; now he’ll get to the cheese course so much faster without Adrien’s slow eating._

_Adrien sighs, his hands moving to his pockets as he takes in the dark grey sky. A raindrop slaps him on the forehead, a wet rebuke for being late, before the heavens seem to open. The bustling street means that Adrien can’t even create a barrier between himself and the rain so that he remains dry; someone is bound to notice the bone-dry boy walking amongst sodden strangers._

_Adrien frowns as his fingers graze the rim of the card the stranger gave him, shoved carelessly in his pocket. He takes it out, the rain plopping onto the paper so that the ink begins to slip away. A curse falls from Adrien’s lips, and a man walking past at the wrong moment turns to frown at him. A sheepish smile grows on Adrien’s face as he prepares to apologise, but the man leaves before he has the chance._

_The card is once more placed in Adrien’s pocket as he prays that the ink doesn’t stain the lining. The address, a small road which he has never taken the opportunity to walk down, burns in his mind as he ponders the man’s words from earlier._

_Adrien trusts Plagg. There must be a good reason that he’s been ordered to visit only Sabrina’s shop._

_But… it certainly isn’t the quality of the hats which keeps Plagg as a loyal customer. And a twist of his gut causes Adrien to wonder if Plagg is matchmaking, or avoiding his own indiscretions. Either way, Adrien doesn’t want to be a part of it._

_The path of his life was chosen for him six years ago, when Plagg found him playing with the ring which now doesn’t leave his finger. Rebellion flares up within Adrien in a heartbeat; he wants to at least be able to choose where he buys his hats, for God’s sake. Or at least have the option of choosing._

_Adrien goes to cross the road which, if he continues to walk straight on, will lead him home. But he takes a sharp right instead, and he knows that he’s made a decision which, for some reason, feels final. It’s the long way round, but now the spark of interest has been lit, Adrien has to see this recommended shop.  Call it curiosity, a desire to know what he’s been forbidden from. It can’t hurt just to_ look _, after all. It’s not like he has to go inside._

_It only takes ten minutes to find the small boutique. Despite the fact Adrien is fairly unfamiliar with this part of town, his feet seem to have a life of their own, like he’s being pulled by some unknown force towards this tiny shop with a rainbow of hats littering the windowsill in a bright display. In the bleak greyscale of the rain, the hats are a bright spot against the dull stone of the buildings._

_He's not going to enter. He’s not. He just wants to look in._

_But it looks warm, and Adrien can’t ignore the chill which is seeping through his clothes as rain continues to spatter on the pavement. At this point even the hat he’s wearing is no protection, and the interior looks so cosy and dry…_

_The hats in the display are a blur as Adrien speeds into the shop. He sighs contentedly as he pushes open the door, the rain left behind when the door swings shut behind him. There’s a girl standing by the counter, who looks at him when he carefully closes the door behind him._

_Adrien is shocked to see the girl wearing her hair loose, auburn waves spilling over her back as she raises an eyebrow at his entrance. The girl scans the soaking Adrien, her lip curling in confusion whilst she blinks once, twice._

_“What happened to_ you? _” she asks, her voice incredulous. “Did you_ swim _here?”_

_Adrien shakes his head, his eyes widening at the improper greeting. He’s aware of flecks of water pattering on the carpet as droplets fly from his hair with the action._

_“No,” he says, bewildered at the unexpected informality. “No, I just got caught in the rain – I didn’t bring an umbrella, it was sunny earlier…”_

_“Well, I’m sorry to tell you that we are a hat shop, not an umbrella shop.” She sweeps her arm across the room to indicate the variety of hats which were placed carefully on the walls. “So I’m not sure we can help you.”_

_Adrien nods slowly, the girl’s casual tone unnerving. “I can see that,” he replies, squeezing his own sodden hat in his hands. Water drips as his hold on it tightens, and as the girl’s eyes drop to the floor, he knows she’s noticed. “I just – could I stay in here until the rain eases up a little bit?”_

_There’s a pause as the girl tilts her head, her eyes narrowing as she looks at the soaking boy in front of her. She gives him a curt nod, and Adrien’s whole body relaxes._

_“Thank you, that’s very ki-”_

_“There’s one condition,” the girl says, holding up a finger to silence Adrien. His words falter as his eyebrows shoot up. The girl smirks, raising her chin towards the display on Adrien’s right – the men’s hats. “You have to purchase something.”_

_“Pardon me?” Adrien asks, not quite believing his ears._

_“You have to buy something. It’s only fair, you’re ruining the flooring.”_

_He doesn’t need to look down to know she’s right, but Adrien is surprised at the sheer audacity of the girl. It’s refreshing, but also slightly rude; Adrien wants to protest, but he’s aware that he has a choice of buying a hat or facing the poor weather._

_It’s not a hard choice to make._

_“Alright,” Adrien says, and the girl’s eye widen in surprise at the agreement. “But if I’m buying something, I get to stay until the rain dies down.”_

_The girl nods. “Agreed.” Her smile widens, and she gestures to the wall of hats decorating the store. “Take your pick, Monsieur…?”_

_“Agreste,” Adrien replies. “My name is Adrien Agreste.”_

_The girl straightens up like a shot, her hands slamming on the table as she gawps at him._

_“Agreste? As in Gabriel Agreste?”_

_Bitterness tickles the back of Adrien’s throat; he always hates this part of introductions._

_“He’s my father.” The proud smile Adrien wears as he speaks is one practised to perfection, a mask created to maintain the illusion of a happy family his father so desired, even though he hasn’t seen his son in the best part of two years. The girl blinks, smoothing down the skirt of her dress before raising an eyebrow._

_“I assume that you’ll be wanting to see our better hats, then. Not that any of them are poor quality, but the son of Monsieur Agreste will want only the best.”_

_Adrien holds up his hands as the girl skirts around the cashier desk, pondering the hats on display._

_“Honestly, I just want a replacement for this,” Adrien says, gesturing to the sodden hat in his hand. “It doesn’t need to be anything spectacular.”_

_The girl’s back is to him when she waves a hand in dismissal of his statement. “Don’t be silly, everything we produce is spectacular. Our designer is a miracle worker. But if you want a quick replacement rather than an everyday hat, I would suggest… one of these?”_

_She grabs a pale grey bowler, and looked between it and Adrien before putting it back._

_“Usually I would suggest you try it on, but with your hair being – how do I put this delicately? – a bit damp, maybe that isn’t the best idea.” She puts the hat back, raising a finger at Adrien before darting across the shop. “Wait right there!”_

_A door Adrien didn’t notice opens as the girl pushes against it, and even when it closes he can hear her call out. “Marinette! There’s a horrendously wet customer looking for a hat, do we have a towel for his hair?”_

_Soft footfalls move down what Adrien assumes to be hidden steps, and a quieter voice slips underneath the door._

_“Alya, don’t shout while we have a customer!” Adrien hears the new girl say. “What on earth is going on?”_

_“He didn’t have an umbrella, and he’s pretty wet. I said he could stay in the shop until the rain eased off so long as he bought a hat, but I don’t want him to try anything on with wet hair.”_

_“… Alya, I’m pretty sure that’s blackmail. He doesn’t need to buy a hat to stay out of the rain.”_

_“Hey, I’m just trying to keep the business going when today is clearly going to be slow. Who’s dumb enough to be out in this weather? Well, apart from this guy.”_

_Adrien can’t hear the other girl’s response, but after a moment the door opens, and a smiling Alya walks out._

_“Apologies for the wait, my colleague is just getting you a towel.” She moves back to her point behind the counter, resting her hands on the wood as she observes him._

_“Thank you,” Adrien replies, slightly nervous at the overly large smile adorning Alya’s face. It’s calculating, her eyes constantly flicking between the door she’d walked through and Adrien. He hears footsteps quickly move up the stairs and down again before another girl pushes the door open with her hip, her arms holding a pile of towels which she places next to Alya’s hands on the counter._

_“Good afternoon, monsieur!” The girl says, spinning so her pale blue dress swirls around her ankles. “I do apologise for the wait.” She drops into a curtsey, and Adrien knows that this girl is Alya’s superior in the shop, although she looks to be about the same age as him; her customer service is already an improvement on Alya’s casual conversation, and she’s only been in the room for twenty seconds. “My name is Marinette. How can I be of assistance?”_

_Adrien smiles, bowing quickly before gesturing to the window, where raindrops curl down the glass in streaks._

_“Well, I just wanted to get out of the rain, and now it seems I’m buying a hat. Any suggestions?”_

_Marinette blinks, and Adrien realises that just because Alya has a relaxed working attitude doesn’t mean that this girl does too. He clasps his hat with both hands, and a few more droplets fall onto the growing puddle of water on the floor. There’s a pause, but Marinette brushes off any awkwardness with a professional smile._

_“Of course! What are you looking for?” She asks, and Adrien holds up his bowler so that she can see it._

_“I just want something dry,” he says, trying not to laugh at the situation. Marinette raises an eyebrow and glances at Alya, who’s clearly fighting back a snigger._

_“Well, we can certainly find you something which fits that requirement.” The words aren’t_ exactly _sarcastic, but the quirk of her lips tells Adrien that maybe Alya isn’t the only one with less-than-perfect manners._

_“I’m thrilled to hear it,” Adrien replies drily, the smile growing on his face dulling the potential for sarcasm. “Is there somewhere I can put this? I don’t want it to ruin the floor.”_

_“It might be a bit late for that,” Alya says from her place at the counter. Marinette shoots a glare at her before curling her lips in a professional, courteous smile at Adrien._

_“No matter, it’s only water - it will dry up in no time,” she says cheerily._

_“I’m not sure it_ will _-”_

 _“Alya!” Marinette snaps, eyes wide as she gestures her head at Adrien in an attempt at subtlety, exasperated at her fellow shopkeeper. “I’m_ sure _it will dry up in_ no time.”

_The redhead grins, and Adrien is, quite frankly, bemused at the entire situation._

_“Yep. No time at all,” Alya agrees, propping her chin in one hand as she leans back on the table, looking down at the sodden carpet by Adrien’s feet. “I mean, it’s practically gone already.”_

_“Alya!” Marinette spins to face Adrien again, and an awkward smile is plastered on her face as her professionalism is slowly chipped away by Alya’s sarcasm. “I apologise on behalf of my assistant-”_

_“_ Excuse _me? Assistant? I’m not your assis-”_

 _“My_ assistant _is new, and apparently has forgotten her manners this afternoon.” Marinette drops into an apologetic curtsey as she shoots a glare at Alya, and Adrien shakes his head at her._

_“Not at all, Mademoiselle Marinette. It’s, ah, refreshing.”_

_“See? I’m refreshing. And out of everyone, I’m sure you would trust Monsieur Agreste to have good taste, in clothes_ and _people. Right, Marinette?”_

_Adrien has to hold back a groan; he can hear the faux innocence in Alya’s voice as she drops his father’s name into the conversation, and he smiles wearily as Marinette’s gaze locks onto him._

_“Monsieur Agreste?” Marinette repeats, and Adrien is surprised to hear suspicion lacing her words. He shakes his head, holding his hands up, one still clutching the sodden bowler which he really wants to put down._

_“No – I’m his son, Adrien. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, but the warmth of his tone doesn’t soften the frown which lines Marinette’s face. Her hands move to her hips as her lips seem to tighten._

_“Adrien Agreste? The Adrien Agreste who is renowned for only shopping at Chloé Bourgeois’ boutique?”_

_“…Yes?” Adrien feels like it’s the wrong answer, but he isn’t sure what else he can really say. Marinette’s eyes narrow as she observes him, her eyes skimming over his frame as she seems to assess him._

_After a moment, Adrien rocks on his heels, taking his hat in both hands and holding it in front of him as if to shield his torso from Marinette’s scathing gaze. She meets his eyes, and her face seems to soften. With a small shake of her head and the tiniest of smiles, Adrien relaxes; he hadn’t even noticed the tension coursing through his body. He hears a sigh of relief from the counter, and knows that he’s passed some sort of test._

_Marinette’s hands slide from her hips, and her lips tilt upwards as she releases a breath._

_“Even Chloé wouldn’t send someone to spy on us in_ this _weather. Especially an Agreste,” she says, and Adrien raises an eyebrow, shifting his weight onto his other leg._

_“Spy?” he asks, curiosity piqued. Alya lets out a snort from her position at the counter, and straightens up._

_“Chloé Bourgeois has been trying to get her hands on Marinette’s designs for months now. She knows Mari’s designs are better, and she doesn’t want the competition. We’ve had to ban her and Sabrina from the shop as they tried to draw Marinette’s designs whilst she was in the room with them.” Alya rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t put it past her to try and sneak in a spy. But Marinette’s right, Chloé wouldn’t put an asset of hers in a position where they could actually get ill.”_

_Adrien can’t help but tense at Alya’s words. “I’m not an asset of Chloé’s,” he says firmly, looking past Marinette to meet Alya’s eyes. She raises an eyebrow in response._

_“If you’re a friend of Chloé’s, you’re an asset. Sorry, Adrien. That’s the way it is with her.”_

_“Alya! Don’t be so informal!” Marinette gasps, eyes wide as she looks between the pair. “Monsieur Agreste, I do apologise for Alya’s behaviour.”_

_“No apology necessary,” he replies, looking away from Alya to smile at Marinette. “But I really would like to put this down, if you wouldn’t mind.”_

_He gestures towards the hat in his hands; droplets have seeped through his gloves, and his hands have started to feel cold. Besides, he desperately wants to move the conversation away from Chloé; he’s spent long enough with her in his thoughts today, and although she’s his friend, thoughts of Chloé now tend to come hand-in-hand with thoughts of his future, and a marriage he doesn’t want._

_Marinette’s mouth drops open in a small ‘o’ as she quickly shuffles towards him, taking the hat from him. Their fingertips brush as he releases his grip on the bowler, and Adrien blinks at the soft contact. He’s not sure if it’s the simple fact that Marinette is warm whilst he’s cold from the rain, but heat seems to curl through his fingers at her touch, and he can feel a flush rush to his cheeks._

_“I’m so sorry, I’ll just go hang this up in the back-”_

_“I’ll do that,” Alya says, moving from the counter towards Marinette, picking up a towel as she moves. She’s looking at Adrien, surveying him, and he knows she can see the heat in his face. Alya plucks the hat from Marinette’s hands, shoves a towel unceremoniously at Adrien, and winks at Marinette as he takes hold of it. “I think you’ll do a better job of pairing Adrien up with a new hat, anyway.”_

_With a speed Adrien didn’t think was possible in a dress with that much fabric, Alya has left the room, and he and Marinette have been left alone. Marinette looks up at him, an angelic smile adorning her face, and she gestures to the hats dotting the wall of the shop._

_“So, do you have any preference?” she asks, and Adrien has to blink to bring himself out of the daze he’s suddenly in._

_“Uh, no, not- not really. Any suggestions?” he replies, patting the towel to his face to cover the blush forming there whilst drying the water drops sliding past his ear, and Marinette turns on her heel to step towards the display._

_She walks past some of the hats, her finger trailing over a few of their tops, before she settles on a simple yet elegant black bowler. She picks it up, delicately holding the brim between her fingertips, and Adrien can see the back of her head dip as she nods once._

_He's patting the towel down his arm, trying to absorb some of the liquid in his clothes – anywhere else he wouldn’t dare act with such lack of decorum, but between Alya’s informality and Marinette nearly accusing him of being a spy for Chloé, Adrien figures that he can bend societal formality, just this once – when Marinette turns back to face him, holding out the hat of her choice._

_“This one,” she says, and Adrien puts the towel over his shoulder to take the bowler being held out to him. He turns it around, noting the band of green which lines the material inside, only visible to the wearer. Adrien smiles; for something which looks so similar to a Chloé design, the differences are incredible. The material of the bowler is soft, but feels sturdy. He can tell that it’s been stitched by a careful hand, and as he peeks inside the hat itself, he sees the name ‘Marinette’ woven into it, the green thread bright against the ebony silk interior._

_“It’s fantastic,” Adrien says, his eyes flicking up to Marinette’s. “You made this yourself?”_

_The nod she responds with is hesitant, shy; Marinette seems to make herself smaller as her gaze drops to the floor, and Adrien can see her little, proud smile._

_“Well, I would love to buy it. How much?”_

_Marinette blinks as she looks up at Adrien, surprised at his sincerity._

_“Um. Good question, actually,” she replies. “I hadn’t got round to pricing it yet, it was only finished and put up an hour ago. I didn’t think we’d get any customers today, and I… well, I forgot.”_

_Adrien bites back a chuckle at the look of confusion which appears on Marinette’s face. She frowns at the hat, pursing her lips as she folds her arms across her chest. The white of her gloves are stark against the blue of her dress, and she looks so determined as she tries to figure out how much she’s going to charge him._

_One of her fingers moves to tug a loose strand of hair falling over her ear, and Marinette lets out a huff as she comes to a decision. She looks up at Adrien, standing silently in front of her, and raises a finger._

_“I don’t know how much this costs.” It’s a statement, and Adrien really isn’t sure how to respond. Before he has the chance, however, Marinette continues speaking. “And because I don’t know how much it costs, I can’t technically charge you for it. So here’s the deal. You can take the hat – heaven knows you need a new one right now – but you have to come back and pay for it.”_

_Adrien blinks once, twice, as he takes in Marinette’s words. He looks down at the bowler and back up at Marinette, and shakes his head._

_“I can’t do that; you need to be paid-”_

_“And I will be. If you aren’t back in a week, I’ll send Alya to get the money.” Marinette grins. “You’re an Agreste, I don’t think you’ll be hard to find. And I don’t think you want Alya turning up at your doorstep. That girl can be a hellraiser when she wants to be.”_

_“I don’t doubt it,” Adrien says, his voice a murmur. Marinette’s raised eyebrow tells him that he wasn’t quite quiet enough, though. “Okay. Deal. But I want to be charged a good amount for this spectacular hat.”_

_“If you insist,” Marinette laughs, one hand moving to cover her mouth as she giggles._

_They both hear the door swing open behind them, and their heads snap to face Alya walking through the door. It occurs to Adrien that it shouldn’t have taken such a long time to hang up his hat, but before his thoughts can wander any further, Alya has moved beside them. She looks down at the hat in his hands, and gives Marinette an approving pat on the shoulder._

_“Good choice, that’ll look good on him.”_

_“Thank you. I thought so,” Marinette agrees, and Alya nods her head towards the window._

_“Not to kick you out of the shop, Adrien-”_

_“Alya!”_

_“-but the rain is easing up. If you want to get home and dry, I would suggest going while you’ve got the chance.”_

_Adrien looks out of the window, following Alya’s gaze, and sure enough the clouds have faded, the dark grey lightening into the soft, washed-out watercolours of a clearing sky. Rain still scatters across the window, but it’s far less intense than when Adrien sought shelter. He nods, turning back to the girls._

_“You make a good point. I’ll take my leave while I can. Thank you both, for the hospitality and the hat.” Adrien smiles at Marinette as he carefully puts the bowler on his head. It fits perfectly; he knew it would._

_He can feel the silken lining press against his damp locks, and all at once he feels the chill from his sodden clothes seep into his bones. Home seems like a wonderful idea; he doesn’t want to catch a chill._

_“I will see you next week, with payment. If not, I shall expect to see Alya tearing down my door in due course.”_

_Alya looks confused as Marinette lets out another melodic giggle, before rolling her eyes whilst fighting back a tiny grin. Marinette shakes her head, opening her mouth to say goodbye before her whole body tenses. Her eyebrows shoot up, and her head twists to look at the back entrance._

_“Wait one moment!” Marinette says, and Adrien freezes, one hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. Marinette raises one finger, backing towards the door, one hand grasping her skirt, hoisting it slightly up above her feet so that she doesn’t trip. “Stay right there!”_

_She twists around, skirt curling around her ankles as she speedily moves through the entrance. Adrien hears her footsteps echo as she walks upstairs, and he looks over at Alya, who simply shrugs. Barely thirty seconds later, Marinette pushes the door open again, and walks through holding a midnight black umbrella. A grin is wide on her face as she steps towards Adrien, holding it out in front of her._

_“Here. A customer left this behind months ago and never collected it. It’ll stop you from getting any wetter.”_

_Adrien’s hand goes to reach for the handle, and for a second he glimpses Alya, whose eyes are flicking between him and Marinette. The redhead is smiling, and he swears she gives him a thumbs up as he grasps the handle of the umbrella._

_“Are you sure?” Adrien asks. Marinette nods vigorously._

_“I don’t want you to get ill. You owe me money, after all.” She laughs as she speaks, and Adrien can’t help but chuckle with her._

_“Well, thank you very much,” Adrien says, and he feels the soft warmth of Marinette’s fingers brush against his as he takes the umbrella. A tingle of electricity seems to curl through him, and he wonders if it’s just him; but Marinette tears her hand away, her smile becoming somewhat forced as her eyes widen. Her hands drop to her sides, and the fingers which touched Adrien’s curl slightly, her thumb rubbing her fingertips gently._

_“You’re welcome, Monsieur Agreste,” Marinette says. “I look forward to seeing you again.” She sinks into a shallow curtsey, and Adrien bows in response._

_“As do I.” He grins and winks at Marinette. It’s too informal, too familiar, but he’s so comfortable with these girls he met not half an hour ago that he can’t help it._

_“And call me Adrien!” he says. Adrien waves to a smirking Alya, who returns the gesture. “Au revoir, Alya. Au revoir, Marinette.”_

_He hears them echo his goodbye, and twists the doorknob, opening the black umbrella as he heads back into the outside world. The rain seems to have settled down somewhat, but Adrien is still grateful for the umbrella when he steps out of the shop’s door. He’s still cold as he begins the walk home, the chill of the rain pressing against his skin as his shirt begins to stick to him from the remnants of his earlier walk, but he knows there will be a fire waiting for him back home._

_There will also be a worried and annoyed Plagg, but he can deal with that._

_What Adrien has to deal with now, however, is finding a way to return to Marinette’s shop without Plagg finding out. The two girls had been an entirely different experience to Chloé and Sabrina, and the hats were better quality than those sold in the latter’s store, not to mention cheaper._

_Adrien lets out a sigh as he steps along the washed-out pavements of Paris. He’ll find a way to sort it out; it is hardly a big secret, after all. But it’s one he knows he will have to keep._

_Really though, what harm could there be in going to a different chapelier?_

 


	6. Boarding the train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game begins, with a twist none of the players expected. First though, they must say goodbye...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIIIIIVE! But hey, at least it's only been about two months this time! I hope you enjoy the latest chapter, and fingers crossed the wait for the next one won't be so long.  
> As always, a humongous thanks to Hannah for editing a ten-page chapter - you're the best! <3

Marinette could hardly breathe. The small lace collar around her neck felt too tight as she watched Adrien speak to Tikki and Plagg, his arms gesticulating wildly as he relayed the story of their first meeting. She couldn’t lift her eyes away from the ebony mask clasped tightly in his hand, and her fingers moved to her own, skimming the crimson which hid the top half of her face. Almost unknowingly, she pulled at the ribbon which was knotted tightly at the back, letting the mask drop.

There was no point in it now.

Watching as Adrien described their first meeting, Marinette could hear nothing but the blood pounding in her head, drowning out words she should probably be listening to.

_Adrien?_

Marinette didn’t know why knowing him was a bad thing, exactly, but Tikki’s reaction had confirmed what little Marinette had been taught about the contest she’d been unwillingly entered in. Knowing her competition was bad. Knowing that it was _Adrien_ was worse, but Marinette still wasn’t sure why.

All she wanted to do was run, disappear into the night and escape the situation; she was sure she could, illusion was her forte – if she ran, just turned and _ran_ , nobody would be able to find her if she so wished-

As Marinette thought of escape, white-hot pain shot through her earlobes, rippling through her body in waves of pain under her skin. It took everything she had not to shriek in pain, but Marinette couldn’t stop herself from clapping her hands over her ears and wincing. The mask softly hit her neck as the silk of the ribbon brushed against her right cheek, her fingers pressing hard against her earlobes. After a few seconds, the pain receded, sliding back within her and, with one last throb of sharp agony budding from the earrings, disappeared completely.

A breath she didn’t know she’d been holding escaped Marinette, and as she gasped to refill her lungs with much needed oxygen, she looked up at the trio a few metres in front of her. Tikki and Plagg had their backs to her, but Marinette saw Adrien’s eyes flit towards her as she lowered her hands, the ribbon of her mask clenched firmly in her palm. His gaze was filled with concern, and whatever Adrien had been saying trailed away into the breathless night, a fading star of speech eclipsed by the anguish on Marinette’s face.

“Adrien? Adrien, what happened next?” Plagg asked, a gentle demand which Adrien ignored. He was focused on Marinette, still not understanding what was so wrong with the situation.

Plagg noticed Adrien’s diverted attention, quickly glancing at Marinette as Tikki did the same. Marinette had composed herself by the time the two mentorsfollowed Adrien’s gaze, and so Plagg turned back to Adrien and placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing him out of his concerned trance.

“Adrien?” Plagg asked again, more firmly this time. “What happened after you left?”

Marinette cast her gaze down to the ground, and in a heartbeat the tiny moment between them had dissipated. “Pardon?” Adrien said politely, an instinctual response when he’d stopped paying attention. Plagg sighed, opening his mouth to speak again before Tikki’s head snapped around as she cut him off.

“This man you met, the one who told you to visit my shop. What did you say he was wearing?” Tikki asked, her words filled with ice-cold anger. Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed as he frowned, the question throwing him off guard.

“A purple suit – it was incredibly distinctive; purple hadn’t been in style for a few years, and he stood out-”

Tikki’s hiss interrupted Adrien as he began to babble, his eyes widening in surprise when the older woman’s head snapped towards Plagg.

“He _knew_ ,” she said, spitting the words out with venom. “The bastard set it all up. _‘D_ _on’t you think it might be more interesting if they met beforehand?’_ He sat there, _mocking_ us, knowing exactly what he’d done, knowing that we’d tried to keep them apart and failed. Because of _him_.” Fire burned behind Tikki’s eyes as she spoke.

“Tikki,” Plagg said, one hand carefully grasping her forearm, his voice low. “I’m furious, too. But there’s nothing we can do, and I think right now you need to reassess your priorities.” Another glance towards Marinette stopped Tikki’s fury like a doused fire, and she tugged herself out of Plagg’s grip before striding over to Marinette.

As she levelled with Marinette, Tikki’s hand shot out to grip her elbow, gently tugging Marinette around as she kept walking. The younger girl began to step in time with Tikki, the two quickly moving away from Plagg and Adrien.

“Tikki?” Marinette spoke quietly, her voice uncertain. “Where are we going?” A glance behind her told her that the gentlemen were also surprised by Tikki’s actions, but Marinette didn’t look back for too long, in fear of meeting Adrien’s eyes.

“To talk,” came Tikki’s stunted reply. They had barely moved five metres before Aurore stepped out into their path, blocking their way. Her umbrella rested on her shoulder, spinning slowly as Aurore smiled at them calmly.

Tikki’s hand clenched around Marinette’s elbow, not enough to hurt her, but just tightly enough that Marinette knew her mentor was frustrated with the turn of events.

“It’s time for them to leave,” Aurore told Tikki, raising her chin to point between the two protégées. “The train will be leaving soon.”

Marinette’s brow furrowed, and she quickly glanced around the tents; the circus was not located near a station, and even if it was, no trains ran this late. What on earth was Aurore talking about?

She didn’t have long to ponder Aurore’s words, however; Tikki took a step forward, moving close to Aurore, before speaking in a voice which would make Satan himself question his life choices.

“Well, the train won’t be leaving without them, will it?” Tikki’s voice was far too calm, her words far too sweet to be anything other than a subtle threat. Aurore visibly gulped, her collected façade breaking slightly at Tikki’s overly large smile which was completely counteracted by the anger flaring in her eyes. “So I can spend five minutes with Marinette before she leaves for goodness knows how long, _right_?”

Silence dropped down once more as Aurore took in Tikki’s demeanour, her umbrella stilling whilst her fingertips fluttered against the handle in a nervous rhythm. Her gaze snapped between Tikki and Marinette until she let out a tiny sigh.

“You have two minutes,” Aurore said, her voice softer than before; for the first time, there was the smallest inflection of emotion.

Tikki nodded, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to push it much further; the more time she wasted arguing, the less time she would get with Marinette. She and Marinette moved quickly, darting behind one of the surrounding tents for a modicum of privacy. Tikki spun to face the smaller girl, her hands moving to grasp Marinette’s shoulders. With a look of pure urgency, Tikki began to speak rapidly.

“This changes nothing, Marinette. Adrien changes nothing. _You have to win_. It’s going to be harder now, I know, but everything I’ve told you before still applies. Keep your distance. You _must_ keep your distance from him.” Tikki took a breath, and Marinette saw a flash of genuine fear in her eyes. “Promise me, Marinette.”

There were tears forming in the corners of Marinette’s eyes; Tikki’s words were filled with concern, but Marinette just didn’t understand _why._

“But, Tikki-”

“ _Promise me.”_

There was no room for argument. Marinette nodded, and relief washed over Tikki’s tense frame.

“Thank you,” she whispered, drawing Marinette into a hug. “You’ll understand one day.”

Marinette nodded into Tikki’s shoulder, grasping her mentor to steady her trembling nerves. After far too short a time, Tikki pulled away, her head snapping towards the direction they’d come from. Sure enough, Aurore moved into view, the crisp white of her gloves gleaming in the dull night as she pointed her closed umbrella at Marinette.

“It’s time for her to go,” Aurore said. “We’ve lingered long enough.”

Tikki did nothing, her face expressionless as she retraced her steps to where Plagg and Adrien waited, Marinette following behind. As they got to the small clearing – it really wasn’t a long walk, they’d moved so little – the three women could see Plagg rapidly speaking to Adrien, his hands resting on Adrien’s shoulders in the same way Tikki had been holding Marinette moments before. The look of urgency Plagg wore was clearly concerning Adrien, and Tikki knew that Plagg would be repeating the words she had spoken to her own protégée; after all, both she and Plagg knew how this would end, and both wanted to minimise the damage while they had the chance.

Aurore cleared her throat, a surprisingly delicate sound, and Plagg looked up to see the trio arriving. One hand dropped from Adrien as the older man turned slightly to face the women, and a look of pity crossed his brow when Plagg’s eyes met Marinette’s. She stopped in her tracks, frozen by the sincerity of emotion that Plagg was expressing. He let out the smallest of sighs before Aurore’s voice cut through the night.

“Say goodbye. We leave in thirty seconds.”

Immediately, both Adrien and Marinette were pulled into their respective mentor’s embrace. For once, no words were spoken, no pieces of advice hastily thrown their way; instead, Tikki and Plagg just held the young adults who they’d spent the last ten years training. Tikki took a step back, one hand rising to cup Marinette’s cheek. She smiled sadly, worry rooted in her gaze.

“Good luck, Marinette.” Tikki bent down to give the younger girl a kiss on the forehead before releasing her and stepping back.

“Thank you, Tikki” Marinette replied, her voice small as she tried to give her mentor a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

The words were meant to have been encouraging, but the small mockery of a smile Marinette had managed to create slid away at Tikki’s silence.

“I will see you soon. Right?” Marinette asked, the realisation that her separation from her mentor may be far longer than she was anticipating hitting her all at once. “Tikki?”

Tikki opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out; she merely shook her head, the smallest gesture as her gaze dropped to the grass beneath her feet, and Marinette’s heart broke. A hand fell on Marinette’s shoulder, and she twisted her head to see Aurore behind her. Marinette shrugged the hand off and spun away from Tikki, blinking back hot tears as she glared at Aurore.

“It’s time to go,” Aurore said, her firm tone of voice leaving no room for argument. Marinette huffed before darting back to Tikki and wrapping her arms around her waist. She kissed her mentor quickly on the cheek before letting her go and stalking past Aurore, her head held high.

Marinette strode past Plagg and Adrien, who were as reluctant to part as she and Tikki were. Plagg had released Adrien from his embrace, but was clutching his shoulder in an attempt to keep him in Paris. However, at Aurore’s raised eyebrow, Plagg let Adrien go.

“Good luck. Win. And remember what I told you,” Plagg said shakily. Adrien nodded once, taking a nervous breath before turning to follow Aurore, who had sped up to overtake Marinette. Although she maintained her grace, Aurore gave Marinette a dirty look as soon as she got in front of the younger girl.

Tikki and Plagg watched as their protégés disappeared into the night, gravitating towards each other like magnets. Tikki took Plagg’s outstretched hand and squeezed it, both to give and receive reassurance.

“It never gets easier, does it?” Plagg mused as Aurore led Adrien and Marinette out of sight.

“No,” Tikki agreed, her entire body drooping once they were gone.

“This time… it feels different.” Plagg made an attempt at a smile, his moustache being pushed slightly up before falling back into its original position. “There’s change in the air.”

Tikki sighed, and looked up at the clouds which seemed to darken with each second.

“Let’s hope it’s for the better,” she replied.

Plagg sighed.

“I always do.”

* * *

Marinette and Adrien followed Aurore in silence, barely comprehending their surroundings as they walked. They seemed to be moving away from the tents, yet somehow had not left the park in which the circus had made its temporary home; grass which was darkened by the evening sky seemed to go on forever, their path fading into one only Aurore seemed to know.

If either of them were asked to explain how they got to the train, they would not have been able to; the world seemed to blur as they walked, and neither Adrien nor Marinette knew if it was due to Aurore’s magic or the nerves which shook them, causing them to focus only on the myriad of thoughts and fears hissing in their minds.

All they knew was that the train was like the circus itself; one moment there was nothing, and then it was there.

The monochrome colour scheme of le Cirque de la Miraculeuse apparently didn’t end with the tents. The train was a sleek black with a white chimney, pilot and wheels which had ebony cranks stretched across them. Sections of raven-coloured paint were beginning to fade at the front, causing the otherwise perfect appearance of the locomotive to seem flawed. Aurore paused as they approached, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the scuff marks which smudged the otherwise flawless exterior.

“That won’t do,” she murmured, apparently to herself. “I must get Nathanäel to fix it before we arrive tomorrow.”

She stood back and snapped her fingers once. Silently, the door to the single carriage of the train opened, and a grey stepladder unfolded onto the ground.

“Follow me,” Aurore commanded, placing one foot on the steps and looking over her shoulder. She began to climb the small steps, disappearing into the door. Adrien scoffed, carefully looking over at Marinette.

“She says it like we have a choice,” he said with a half-grin, hoping to engage Marinette in a gesture of goodwill. After all, she had been the one to say they could still be civil. He was disappointed, however, when her response was merely a flicker of a smile and a nod of her head.

Marinette followed Aurore first, hoisting herself up the steps whilst being careful not to step on the hem of her dress. The heeled boots she was wearing were comfortable, but felt far too unreliable when treading on thin steps. Marinette clenched the rail tightly as she climbed, knowing that if she fell she would make a fool of herself in front of Adrien and Aurore, who she knew was still watching them, and would probably burst into tears.

The relief Marinette felt as she stepped through the door of the train was brief, as it was quickly overwhelmed by the interior of the train. She stopped, shocked, before realising that she was blocking Adrien’s route inside. Marinette moved to the side, unintentionally moving closer to Aurore, and unashamedly gaped around her.

The highest quality hotel had nothing on the inside of the locomotive. The corridor felt too large for the compact carriage, yet somehow it fit within the physical confines of the train. Paintings were hung at regular intervals along the corridor, artworks of such detail and finery that they were placed against a plain wall rather than one with decoration. The frames were enough to make one forgive the empty space between each painting, as they were ornate artworks in themselves. Gold was spun in loops and swirls, twined so intricately that the decoration seemed never ending.

The walls themselves matched the train’s exterior, painted such a rich black that the paintings seemed to glow in the soft light of the tiny chandeliers which majestically dropped from the ceiling. Though they seemed unsafe, Marinette was sure they had never fallen, the shimmering crystal teardrops destined to forever stay in stasis as they hovered above her.

The carpet was white, of course; heaven forbid the colour scheme be changed even remotely. But Marinette noted that despite having spent the past hour or so in a field, the plush floor remained unstained by their shoes; it stayed the colour of fresh snow, even when Marinette semi-vindictively rubbed the sole of her shoe on it to test it.

The decoration was simple – dark mahogany tables lined the corridor, with white roses placed in vases which shimmered in the light, the handiwork of miniscule gems carefully placed to reflect the light.

Marinette was taking in the painting closest to her, a portrait of a man in a purple suit who seemed somewhat familiar to her, when Adrien stepped in.

“Good _Lord,”_ he blurted out as his expression turned into the same one Marinette currently displayed. His head swivelled around the room, absorbing it faster than Marinette had.  His eyes were wide as they fell on the painting Marinette was observing, but narrowed quickly when Adrien noticed the man in the purple suit.

“It’s him,” Adrien hissed, pulling Marinette out of her daze. Before she could reply, before Adrien could continue his advance towards the image, Aurore gave them a feline grin and gestured into the corridor in front of them.

“This way, if you please.”

There was no time to argue before Aurore strode ahead of them, walking down the corridor of midnight alone. Marinette and Adrien shared a look of bewilderment before following her, unable to do anything else.

The corridor was too long to be the length of the carriage they had seen from the outside, but Adrien and Marinette knew not to question it for fear of sounding stupid. They would have to become used to the extraordinary, as monumental a task as that seemed. The carriage was more than met the eye, but wasn’t that true of themselves, too?

As they walked, the corridor’s decoration changed as it slowly began to widen, enough so that Adrien could walk alongside Marinette if he so wished. However, he felt that she would prefer he didn’t, so he stayed two steps behind and to the side of her. The black walls around them faded slightly with each step, lightening more and more until they were a soft cream colour.

The paintings changed, with the ornate frames becoming delicate silver, and the flowers which were placed on the tables began to show a variety of colours; sunflowers which shone gold, pale purple lilies, and tulips which were the soft pink of a sunset livened up the interior, and even the chandeliers became less extraordinary.

Adrien wondered why this was – the circus seemed dedicated to maintaining its intimidating appearance, and the black and white décor was part of that. But as they walked further through the carriage, the sounds of voices and laughter began to grow, and it hit Adrien as they walked past closed doors with small golden numbers printed on them.

This was the living area.

Snippets of conversation filtered under the thick wood of the doors, and Adrien’s eyes flicked to each door they passed. Some clearly hosted numerous people, though whether they were meant to was a question in of itself. Others were quiet, with gentle hums barely heard through the raucous laughter of room seventeen and what seemed like an argument in room twenty-one.

The corridor came to an abrupt end when Aurore stopped walking, standing by two doors facing opposite each other. Rooms twenty-five and twenty-six were shut, but had bronze keys dangling from the keyholes. Aurore took the key from room twenty-five and held it out to Adrien, who took it from her carefully. When Aurore repeated the action for Marinette, the younger girl held out her palm, letting Aurore drop it into her hand before enclosing it in a fist.

Aurore stood up straight, her posture impeccable, and addressed the two young magicians. As Aurore spoke, the noise from the rooms behind them ceased. Aurore took no notice of this, but Adrien and Marinette looked at each other with unease at the knowledge that they were being listened to. “Your tents will not open tomorrow night, but you must use the upcoming two days to practise your routines for the circus. When dusk breaks on the second day, your acts will officially be part of le Cirque de la Miraculeuse.” Aurore paused, making sure to look both Adrien and Marinette sternly in the eyes before continuing. “Do not let us down.”

Marinette looked up at Aurore, irritation evident in her tense posture. She could hear whispers float around her, the voices of men and women alike saying the same words over and over again: “ _new performers”._ She wanted to speak, but had nothing to say except words she knew Aurore could make her regret. So Marinette took a deep breath, and instead of addressing Aurore’s patronising tone, unlocked the door to her new room. She was about to walk in and shut out the world for a few blissful hours when Adrien’s voice stopped her.

“Marinette!”

She turned at Adrien’s voice, spinning so quickly she almost tripped. Adrien was looking at her desperately, his hands clenched tightly. He looked down at the floor, sighed, and the met Marinette’s curious gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, shaking his head as he glanced at the door to his new room. “I didn’t – I never meant-”

“You couldn’t have known,” Marinette interrupted, giving Adrien the largest smile she could muster; it was exhausting to even attempt a grin, so the end result was somewhat lacklustre, but Adrien could see it was sincere. “It’s okay.”

Adrien opened his mouth to argue; whatever else the situation may be, it was certainly not _okay_. But before he could speak, Marinette raised her hand to stop him. Her fingers curled downwards into her palm as she turned the gesture into a wave before turning back around to follow the waiting Aurore, who was watching the interaction with a single arched eyebrow.

“Goodnight, Adrien.”

Marinette opened the door to her room and quickly shut it behind her, blocking out the inquisitive face of Aurore and the sad look on Adrien’s face.

She locked the door immediately, and leant her back against it, letting herself slide onto the floor as she looked at the room properly for the first time. Her bags were piled at the foot of a single bed, next to which a small table held a bedside lantern and nothing else. A chest of drawers sat on the other side next to a moderate wardrobe.

Marinette wrapped her arms around her knees and bit back a sob as she looked at the bare room, and could swear that she could feel the train begin to move though it made no sound, taking her away from Paris.

This room – this train -was her home now.

She hated it.

* * *

Adrien didn’t know what woke him up the next morning. There was no alarm, no Plagg to yell that breakfast was ready and if Adrien didn’t get down there fast, all the camembert would be gone.There was no window to let the sunlight pull him out of the darkness of sleep. There was nothing but a room he wasn’t familiar with, and a pile of bags he hadn’t been able to unpack yet.

He blinked himself out of the warm fuzz of sleep, rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm to wake himself up properly. The chattering of unfamiliar voices brought Adrien into reality, and he realised that the hubbub of movement could only mean one thing: the train had stopped at their new destination.

The realisation created a series of choices for Adrien – should he get up and join the masses? Should he wait a bit longer, and unpack first? Or should he just go back to sleep and try and pretend the whole thing wasn’t happening?

As tempting as the third choice was, Adrien knew that he couldn’t ignore his new reality. Taking a breath to steady his rapidly beating heart, Adrien went to one of his cases and opened it, pulling out the first casual suit he could find.

After buttoning his grey waistcoat, Adrien rolled his sleeves up and decided that it was good enough. Hopefully the levels of decorum at the circus were less strict than the rest of society – Adrien didn’t want to change into his jacket unless he had to, as he was only going to look around at first. Better to familiarise himself with his surroundings before he started to rehearse, otherwise he wouldn’t even know where his tent was!

He unlocked his door and steeled his shoulders, ready to face an unknown number of people whom he had never met before.

It wasn’t how he liked to start his day, but Adrien supposed that his preferences were probably not going to be taken into account frequently during this competition.

The memory of the competition, of the previous night, stung Adrien’s heart. Plagg had been careful to tell him that Marinette being Ladybug meant nothing, that Adrien must focus on winning no matter what and keep away from her. But it was easier said than done. Adrien had been entranced by Ladybug, but he already cared for Marinette; the idea of losing a friend over a contest he had no investment in was painful.

But Plagg had insisted, and the sheer terror in his eyes after Adrien’s admission of taking the man in the purple suit’s advice had shown Adrien that the contest was not to be taken lightly. Although staying away from Marinette would probably be easier if she wasn’t in the room _opposite_ him. Adrien was sure that whoever had arranged the rooms had done that on purpose.

He tried to clear his thoughts, one hand gripping the door handle as he prepared himself for whatever he was about to face.

Adrien swung the door open, and stepped out. A few people were hovering outside of their rooms, faces Adrien somewhat recognised from his own visits to the circus. As he walked through the door, all eyes were on him, a sea of faces staring at the newcomer in their midst. Adrien gulped, and instinctively raised a hand to wave.

The gesture caused a few smiles, and a few people waved back at him before continuing their previous conversations. One person began to head towards him, weaving through the corridor towards Adrien. As he came closer, Adrien’s mouth dropped open.

“ _Nino?”_

Nino was grinning from ear to ear as he threw both arms around his old friend. Adrien automatically grasped him back, shocked and thrilled to see the boy who disappeared in the least expected place.

“Adrien! Adrien Agreste!” Nino cried, pulling back and clutching Adrien’s shoulders. “What brings you to the circus, my friend?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” Adrien laughed, his look of surprise brightening at Nino’s joyous expression. “You – you disappeared! And you were here all this time?”

Nino nodded, releasing Adrien and giving him a thumbs up. “Yeah! I was performing some tricks which – well, I’m sorry I never told you, but you know…”

Adrien gave Nino an understanding smile, his arms folding as he nodded once.

“I know. You can’t tell people when you you’re – when you have a gift.”

“Exactly.” The relief in Nino’s voice was palatable, and more than a few heads had turned back in Adrien’s direction as people realised he wasn’t a complete stranger to the group. “I was scouted a couple of years back, and when the opportunity came, it was too good to pass up.” Nino’s face fell, and one hand moved to rub the back of his neck as his suited shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry I disappeared. There was no time to say goodbye.”

Adrien shook his head. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Still. I’m sorry. But hey, looks like you’re the new guy!” Nino’s face brightened up. “I can’t wait to see your act, what do you do?”

Adrien began to answer, but Nino’s excitement caused him to speak before Adrien could reply.

“I can’t believe it’s _you_ , we knew Aurore was bringing someone, but you? Small world! You have to tell me everything I’ve missed in Paris, we’ve only been back once – thanks for not recognising me when you visited my tent last year, by the way, but I guess that’s the magic of the circus for you. I mean, how’s everything been? Did you ever propose to Chloé? Did Monsieur Plagg kick the cheese habit? How’s the girl in the boutique, Marinette was it? She was a sweetheart, how’s she doing?”

“Nino, breathe!” Adrien laughed awkwardly, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Paris is good. Of course I didn’t propose to Chloé, I’m not mad! Plagg is as much in love with cheese as he ever was. And, well, funny you should mention Marinette…”

“Did someone say my name?”

The girl in question’s head popped round the door of her room, and her eyes widened as she saw the two boys standing in front of it. She opened the door fully and stepped out, blinking in disbelief as she looked at Nino.

“Monsieur Lahiffe? What are you doing here?”

Nino bowed at the familiar face, smiling at Marinette as he bent down.

“I think I should be asking you that, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Nino said, the question in his words directed just as much at Adrien as it was Marinette. He straightened his back before tugging at the cuffs of his shirt to adjust them. “It can’t be that there are two new performers? That’s… rare.”

Marinette nodded politely, clearly trying to keep her gaze from Adrien. “Well, is this not the place for rarities?”

Nino snorted, nodding his head in agreement.

“That it is. And please, call me Nino – le Cirque de la Miraculeuse is hardly a place for formalities among friends.”

Marinette gave Nino a genuine smile.

“Then you must call me Marinette.” Adrien gaped at how quickly Marinette had accepted Nino’s suggestion; it had taken him months to convince her to drop formalities. Although, he supposed, they were no longer in normal circumstances. Still, it ached somewhat.

“Well, Marinette, you must be thrilled to be joining the circus at the same time as Adrien!” Nino exclaimed. “You two can learn together. I’ll guide you both like birds learning to fly! Come, let me show you both around the circus properly.”

Both Marinette and Adrien blinked at Nino’s enthusiasm, their eyes meeting for a split second before they ripped their gazes away.

“That’s very kind of you, Nino,” Marinette said slowly, “but I still have some unpacking to do. Hopefully I’ll find you both later.” She gave a quick curtsey, her politeness unable to be ironed out quite so quickly, and then sped back into her room, the door slamming shut behind her. Nino turned to look at Adrien, an eyebrow raised.

“That was peculiar,” Nino declared. Adrien responded with a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant at Marinette’s behaviour. Nino raised a finger to his chin, tapping it as he replayed the short conversation in his head. A few seconds passed before he raised it in triumph.

“Of course! She must be nervous about her first day. Understandable, we must leave her to face the day on her own terms.”

Adrien shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers, staring at Marinette’s door with a sadness he couldn’t quite hide.

“Yeah. She must need some time to deal with all the change,” Adrien agreed. Nino noted the look on his friend’s face, and patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m sure she’ll feel better by this evening. If not, the circus itself will cheer her up. Nothing lifts the spirits like a night at le Cirque de la Miraculeuse! But until then, Adrien, let me show you around.”

Adrien couldn’t help but grin at Nino, the unexpected reunion seeming like a good omen for whatever came next. Tugging his hands out of his pockets, Adrien clapped Nino on the back and gestured towards the corridor with his head.

“Go on then, Nino. Lead the way.”


	7. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are three days to prepare. Then, the circus opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my last chapter note said "fingers crossed the wait for the next one won't be so long". Nearly a year later, here's the next update (whoops...) - hope it was worth the wait, and thanks as always to Hannah for betaing a chapter mainly written on my phone and riddled with typos (curse you, autocorrect!)

The grass was still damp from the morning dew, small, glistening droplets making the green expanse of the field shine.

The circus had unfurled overnight; what Marinette was certain had only been a park before was now home to the variety of tents which stood tall despite being dwarfed by the towering skyline of the city. A fence had sprung up to encompass the circus, keeping it out of the eager reach of passers-by who looked upon it with pure excitement.

She wasn’t sure if it was done on purpose – and although she had only been part of Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse for the whole of twelve hours, Marinette had a gut feeling that it _was_ – but the circus had managed to spread itself out in the same position it had been in Paris. The same tents were placed next to each other, a pattern Marinette couldn’t decipher. Not that she cared, really; her mind was too full of memories of the previous night for her to truly focus on anything else.

_Adrien. Of course it was Adrien._

He’d walked into her shop five years ago, cold and soaked to the bone, and nothing had been the same since.

Marinette had never fooled herself into thinking that she would have a happily ever after with Adrien – she’d hoped, and let herself fall into the daydreams of a future with him, but had never truly believed that there was one. And apparently, she was right to do so.

The gentle blue of the morning sky was peppered with clouds, small wisps which would no doubt be blown away by the breeze which barely rustled the leaves of the trees lining the park’s perimeter. As she walked along the edge of the grass, glimpsing a street sign in a language she didn’t understand on the corner of a building across the street, a feeling of helplessness began to unfurl within her. Her view became blurry with tears which pricked behind her eyes as she stopped, staring at a place she didn’t know, which she didn’t _want_ to know.

A part of her had hoped when she’d woken up not long ago, in the hazy moments when the world hadn’t quite sharpened into focus as she’d snuggled deeper into the warm blankets covering her, that it had been a dream. That she’d wake up in her small room above the shop, Tikki already preparing for the day ahead by loudly moving around to wake Marinette without having to actually go and disturb her.

Marinette was not a morning person. Tikki had learned that the hard way.

But of course, after being able to convince herself that she would wake up to her old life, she’d opened her eyes to a room she barely knew and a future she hadn’t asked for.

So she’d done the only thing she could think of: leave. Slipping on a dress as quickly as she was able to, Marinette had rushed off the train, barely noticing where her feet were taking her, and kept moving into the only place which had a vague feel of familiarity – the circus itself.

The tents had been erected silently in the night, as they always were. Unlike in Paris, no fences enclosed the circus; its status alone kept people away. The circus was not meant to be experienced in daylight.

It was not a thought Marinette had ever entertained before. She never ran from a challenge, never turned tail when things got tough. But it was day one, and she was exhausted. The pain of leaving Tikki, leaving Alya, leaving Paris had taken its toll, keeping her from sleep and only allowing her fleeting, taunting dreams of home when she had been granted a few brief hours of rest.

Of course, adding Adrien to the mix just made everything more confusing and painful, even though a small part of Marinette was glad that she at least knew one person in her new group of colleagues, even if they were meant to stay away from each other for no apparent reason.

The night had taken its toll, and with fear and stress whispering in her mind, Marinette wondered what would happen if she just ran. If she just left whatever game she'd been thrust into behind, and went home.

There were no fences. Nothing to stop her.

She could make her way to France, she was sure of it. She’d left her bag in the train, but right now, the choice between sentimentality and freedom was barely a hard decision. It felt cowardly, running before the game had even begun, but all Marinette wanted was to be home. Surely she could get a train, a boat, whatever form of transport would get her back to her parents. Not to Paris, where she knew Tikki would be horror-struck to see her return, but _home_.

It wasn’t even because of Adrien, she thought to herself; Marinette simply didn’t want to be a pawn in a game she had no control over, and even less than twenty-four hours in, she knew she was.

As she continued to walk towards the edge of the circus, heart thumping wildly as she seriously considered what her next steps would be, a voice cut through the silence.

"I wouldn't bother, if I were you."

Marinette froze, shoulders tensing as she stared, wide eyed, at the road in front of her and the world it gave her the option to escape into.

"Really, don't. It'll just hurt," the woman continued, stepping out from behind the black and white striped tent, dark against the pastel hues of the morning, closest to Marinette and moving towards her.

Marinette turned, forcing a smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was exploring the area," she said, not quite lying.

The other girl snorted, shoving her hands into the pockets of the trousers she was wearing. Marinette hid her shock at the girl's appearance; the men's clothes she wore, hemmed to fit her small frame, were her least surprising feature. Marinette barely saw the dark green suspenders across the white shirt, ignoring the attire to look at the bright pink of the girl's hair, cut short and pulled into pigtails which rested by her shoulders.

The girl folded her arms, raising one eyebrow sceptically.

"Sure, if by 'exploring' you mean 'thinking of how to run away'. At least Tikki's last protégée lasted a week before considering that option," the girl said drily. Marinette narrowed her eyes, becoming defensive in less than a heartbeat.

"Who said I was running away?" She said, placing her hands on her hips and meeting the other girl's gaze directly. "What were you even doing behind that tent anyway? Are you following me?"

The other eyebrow shot up to be on level with its counterpart. "Someone thinks a lot of herself," she replied. "I knew you'd be here. I figured I could save you a bit of pain, so here I am."

Despite her casual tone, Marinette could tell the girl was being genuine; whether it was the concern in her eyes when she spoke or the way her eyes flicked between Marinette and the road ahead with worry, something told Marinette that the girl was telling the truth. She paused, not knowing how to respond.

"How did you know I'd be here?" Marinette asked, deciding to focus on the slightly less worrying part of the girl's comment.

The girl shrugged.

"Call it a talent."

Marinette looked the girl over, and, after a moment, realised she had seen that hair colour before.

"You're the fortune teller," Marinette gasped. "You... you can see the future!"

The girl swept into a bow.

"My reputation precedes me," she said. "In the circus, I'm Time Breaker. But you can call me Alix."

Marinette stepped towards Alix, holding out her hand. "I'm Marinette." Alix took her hand, and shook it firmly.

"I know."

"Right. Of course you do. You can see the future."

"Actually, we were all briefed by Aurore that there were going to be two newcomers a couple of days ago.

"Oh."

"But still, nice to meet you."

"You too," Marinette replied, her smile becoming genuine.

Alix released Marinette from the handshake, and gestured with her chin to the space in front of them, which was beginning to bustle with people starting their day.

"Let's go back in. The mystery is lost if they see us as we are," she said, before spinning on her heel and moving back into the circus. Marinette blinked twice, then sped to catch up with the quick moving Alix. It didn't take long, as Marinette had a few inches on Alix.

"Wait, we can't leave at all?" Marinette said, her pitch high with concern at the thought of being trapped in the circus, suddenly seeing it as a black and white prison. Alix must have heard the concern saturating her words, as she gave Marinette a reassuring grin.

"We can leave. We just have to be subtle about it. People don’t want to know who we are, what we really look like. They want the magic, the atmosphere. We lose that, we lose the circus."

Marinette nodded slowly, but her response was cut off by a tent flap opening, and a male head poking out in excitement.

"I thought I heard you, Alix!" The boy said, stepping out of the tent and letting the flap fall down behind him. "She was by the road?"

"Of course she was," Alix replied. "You owe me ten... What currency do we use here?"

"Marks."

"Ten of those."

The boy frowned, grumbling as he crossed his arms, a disgruntled reflection of Alix's triumphant pose. "You're going to be wrong one day."

"Want to bet on it?"

His eyes lit up at the words, but before he could speak, Alix held up a hand.

"Later," she said firmly. "Introductions first. Kim, the new girl. New girl, Kim." As she made the introductions, Alix pointed at Marinette and the newly named Kim in turn. Marinette bobbed into a small curtsey. 

"Marinette," she said, shooting a frown at Alix. "Pleasure to meet you."

Kim nodded, ducking into a shallow bow.

"Nice to meet you. So, you're the new girl?" Kim grinned. "Hope you've got something good planned for the circus. We've needed some fresh acts."

Marinette paused, tensing at the words. Somehow, in the fuss of the past twenty-four hours, she'd forgotten that she would actually be performing.

Her face must have given her away, with Alix giving her what she assumed was meant to be a reassuring pat on the back, but was more of a general thump.

"Well, you've got a couple of days to get your act together," Alix said. "For now, the best thing you can do is get to know the circus."

Marinette, her hand moving to rub her left arm nervously, gave both Alix and Kim an overly cheery smile.

"Oh, but I know the circus," she said, semi-convincingly. "I used to come here all the time."

Kim and Alix shared a look, both raising their eyebrows and smiling.

"Well, Miss Marinette, I would disagree," Kim said. "I think you've seen the circus. Maybe you've experienced the circus. But you don't _know_ the circus."

Marinette folded her arms. "What's the difference?" She asked, genuinely curious.

Kim and Alix's smiles deepened into grins.

"I think we should show her, don't you?" Alix said, gaze flicking to Kim before landing back on Marinette.

"I bet I can give her a better tour than you can!" Kim said. He crossed his arms and looked down at Alix, who instantly mirrored his pose.

"Oh, it's on," she replied, before grabbing Marinette's arm and pulling her towards the masses of tents.

"Come on, newbie. Let's show you the ropes."

* * *

It turned out that knowing the circus involved being introduced to everybody. All at once.

Marinette wasn't sure if it was meant to be a party, but somehow a selection of foods had appeared in one of the tents - she thought it may be the red-haired boy's, but she couldn't be sure - and the entirety of Le Cirque de la Miraculeuse had gathered within the canvas walls.

Well, almost the entirety.

Marinette knew that Adrien wasn't there; she was keeping watch for him, and couldn't see the tell-tale shock of blonde hair which - most of the time - gave him away.

There were a few murmurs that Nino wasn't there either, but Marinette could only feel relieved at Adrien's absence.

It would be a lot easier to avoid him if they weren't in the same vicinity, after all.

Sunlight made an attempt to break through the sides of the tent, but it only succeeded in highlighting the black curves and swirls which had been painted thickly on the canvas, casting twisting shadows which landed on the group inside.

An attempt at a tour of the circus had been made, initially; Alix and Kim had diligently led Marinette around the area, pointing out tents and giving her little biographies of their performers. However, as daytime made its entrance with the sun brightly shining in a light blue sky, Kim and Alix began to argue about facts and stories which Marinette, quite frankly, didn't care about.

She was too hot in the dress she'd thrown on in the morning, and it was only when she tuned out of the disagreement in front of her and let the dark purple of her dress melt off, dye streaming out to leave only the faintest trace of lilac, Alix and Kim stopped talking.

Watching her carefully, the pair wore a look of surprise as the sleeves of the dress disintegrated until only the white puff of material covering her shoulders remained. Layers of underskirts also disappeared, as with nothing more than a wisp of air, her skirt fell loosely by her legs, making the dress far more slender than before.

There was a moment of quiet, before Alix let out a low whistle.

"Well, you're going to have one hell of an act if you can do that to more things than dresses," she observed.

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" she replied.

* * *

The next three days passed far too quickly for Marinette's liking. Her thoughts about leaving still whispered temptingly in the back of her mind, but having met the rest of the circus performers and, somewhat to her surprise, liking them all, Marinette decided she would at least try to perform. At least once. And then if she left, she could still look Tikki in the eye for a whole ten seconds, perhaps.

However, one aspect still made the thought of whatever contest Marinette was stepping into wholly unappealing. So, in an attempt to take Tikki's advice on board, Marinette was successfully avoiding Adrien by barely ever leaving her tent.

For two days straight, Marinette's life was devoted to practising her routine, planning out her ideas and executing them over and over under each second, each movement was perfect.

You only had one shot at your first performance in a magical circus show, after all.

She spent most of her time in her tent, only leaving when one of the circus performers - Marinette was sure they were taking turns - dragged her out to eat. After dining in the train on her first night, trying to get accommodated to her new quarters, she was taken out into the city, which she soon learned was called Berlin.

Reluctant though Marinette was to feel positive about the new city, still longing for Paris, it really was quite beautiful; in grey skies she was sure its charm would slip away somewhat, but with the sunlight melting onto the rooftops of the fading whites and light browns of the buildings it felt almost like home. The streets were just as busy as in Paris, with cars trawling on the roads lined by trees which led to buildings topped with high spires and pointed domes.

But whilst Marinette wanted to see the sights of this new city, she was determined to do well in what felt like the first of many tests. So, after briefly dining at the quaint cafés littered around the streets, Marinette ignored Alix's loud protests about her going back and returned to work.

Maybe she should be trying harder to bond with them, Marinette thought to herself as she slowly ambled through the throngs of people beginning to mill around the circus. Over the three days, news had clearly spread about the circus' arrival - not that it was hard to miss.

It hadn't been much affected, up until now; there was a silent respect that until the lights wrapped around the tents and stalls slowly began to glow, the circus was off limits. But now, on the day of the opening, people were practically humming with anticipation as the clock ticked ever closer to sundown. Marinette could have been wearing nothing but a smile, and the crowd beginning to form around the circus edges wouldn't have looked her way.

And yet, they never ventured further than the edges; it was a feeling Marinette knew herself, that without the lights of the circus, it was wrong to go inside. It was practically sacrilege.

Low chatter surrounded her, causing Marinette to wonder how she was going to slip back into the circus without gaining attention. Yes, she was practically invisible right now, but entering the circus would cause every eye to be on her.

She looked around, realising with every heartbeat that each person in the crowd would later be visiting the circus; perhaps visiting her own tent, seeing her perform for the first time. She could feel herself tensing at the thought, nerves beginning to make themselves known as it became hard to breathe.

Marinette didn't know how long she stood there for, staring with the jostling crowd. It was only when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder that she tore her gaze away, looking behind her to see a concerned face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Nino said with a wry smile, his eyes flitting across Marinette's gawking face. Marinette could only stare for a moment - of course, of _course_ it was Nino, why _wouldn't_ Adrien's best friend be part of the group of strangers performing in a magic circus? Much stranger things had happened, after all - but then managed to shake herself out of it.

"No," she said, her voice somewhat shaky, "just taken by surprise, that’s all."

“Ah, of course. I do apologise,” Nino said, before gesturing to the circus in front of them. “I’m guessing you want to sneak back in. Marinette’s lips quirked upwards.

“How did you know?”

Looking around at the throng of people surrounding them, Nino turned to face Marinette with an eyebrow raised. “Well, everyone else here is waiting to go in. And you’re _part_ of the circus now, so you don’t have to wait until sunset, so I assume as you aren’t out seeing the wonders of Berlin, you were hoping to get in without drawing attention to yourself.”

Marinette removed her hand from Nino’s arm to give him a solo round of quiet applause.

“So, Nino, how do you suggest we sneak past all these people without ‘losing the magic’, as Alix says so frequently?”

Nino raised a finger before tucking his hand into his waistcoat, and pulling out a tiny stick with a circle on the end.

“A distraction,” he whispered, before blowing into the circle. All at once, tiny bubbles flew out into the air, weaving into the crowd so rapidly that it was impossible to tell where they had originated. Some of them expanded as the bobbed over the heads of the mesmerised onlookers, whose attention snapped from the still tents to the shining orbs which brushed their shoulders and whispered through the crowd. The light from the sun caused the bubbles to shine, pinks and yellows wrapping around them, brightening the skyline with the shimmering colours.

Nino blew more bubbles out, winking at Marinette as she reached out to touch one, her mouth opening in awe as it bounced off of her fingertips like a balloon, unbreakable even in its fragility. All at once, the world became shiny; a thin barrier between Marinette and the world seemed to appear, and her head snapped to Nino, who was putting the bubble blower back in his inner pocket.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering her his arm.

“What – what did you do?” Marinette said, taking his proffered elbow whilst looking up at the barrier which encircled them.

“We’re in a personal bubble; nobody can see us right now,” Nino explained, beginning to walk through the people surrounding them, tugging Marinette with him while he wove their way through, careful not to touch anyone. “They’re so focused on the bubbles around them, they won’t have noticed us disappear. People are easy to distract, it turns out. So, easy access to the circus!”

Marinette shook her head. “That’s _impossible_.” Nino let out a laugh.

“That’s magic. You might want to get used to it,” he replied as they reached the edge of the circus.

Marinette rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff, her small smile taking any malice out of the sound. It wasn’t long before they were at Marinette’s tent, their path significantly easier to tread once they were through the throng of people. She released Nino’s arm, turning to face him with a warm smile.

“Thank you for sneaking me in,” she said, moving to open the flap of the tent.

“My pleasure, Marinette,” Nino said with a bow. “Good luck with your performance tonight. I’ll hopefully be able to come see it during my break.”

Marinette grinned. “Thank you - it would be nice to see a friendly face.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Nino replied. “I’m sure most of us will try and visit you; everyone’s very curious about what you and Adrien will bring to the circus.” With a wave, Nino left Marinette in the entrance of her tent, feeling both reassured and, somehow, even more nervous than before.


End file.
